Calamity
by HR always live on
Summary: Another HR story, set after S 9 episode 1 (but without the rooftop conversation). Harry gets a nasty midnight call with bad news. Ruth's been hit by a car and is seriously injured. (Happy ending, I promise.) Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**I've had this idea for a while, and the first chapter was very easy to write, which is why I've posted quickly. Set after 9-1, but that awful "We could never be more together than we are right now" rooftop conversation never happened.**

* * *

Harry rolled over, waking from the deepest sleep he'd had in weeks and extremely annoyed that his phone was ringing. He fumbled for it, rubbing his eyes and looking at the clock. 3:04am the digital numbers showed. _Bloody hell._

"If this isn't important, I'm going to sack you," Harry said in his sternest voice as soon as he'd managed to answer the call.

"Er… I'm trying to contact Mr Pearce," an unfamiliar voice said on the phone. "Am I speaking to him?"

"Yes," Harry said warily. "Why?"

"I have some bad news I'm afraid. I'm a nurse at St Mary's hospital, and you're listed as the emergency contact."

"Oh God," he said, sitting up, as every possible nightmare scenario filled his mind. "Is it Catherine?"

"Er… no," the nurse said. "It's Ruth Evershed."

"Oh no, not Ruth," he said to himself. "Is she all right? What's happened?" He spoke calmly, and could feel himself slipping into spook mode. A disaster had happened, but he couldn't afford to panic until he knew how bad things were. Until it was all sorted out peacefully. Almost as if his emotional side had been switched off until he knew the damage.

"Miss Evershed's been hit by a car," the nurse said gently. "She's in pretty bad shape, but she's stable." The words_ "for the moment"_ hadn't been said, but they might as well have been. Harry could hear them in the air.

"How bad is it?" he asked. "I mean, what's the damage? She's not going to…" he swallowed, making himself say it. "Die is she?"

"I can't give out a lot of details over the phone, but she's serious but stable," the nurse said, that familiarly bad line from anyone who watched TV or films. "But… I'd get here tonight. Just in case. I mean, we don't call the family at three a.m. just for the hell of it."

"Okay," he said. "I'm on my way. St Mary's right?"

"Yes."

"I'll be there in half an hour," he said, already mentally planning his route across London. He put the phone down and hurried to get dressed. He could feel his mind working, the same way it did when he'd been on the grid for three days constantly. He wasn't allowing his mind to shut down or to even comprehend the devastating news he'd just been told. It was important that he functioned normally for a little while longer. At least until he saw her. Then he could fall apart, but not now.

* * *

He drove carefully to the hospital, and despite his best efforts his mind kept replaying the sentence "Miss Evershed's been hit by a car." _Ruth, hit by a car. God. No Harry, concentrate on driving. Getting yourself into an accident will hardly help matters. Serious but stable. Two opposing views there. Which one was it leaning towards? Was it more serious or stable? Red traffic light._

He braked and shook his head. The problem was he'd seen too much. He'd seen photos of too many dead bodies, and he could all too easily imagine Ruth lying in a crumpled ball on the street, eyes glazed over into unseeing blindness as her life's blood poured out on the tarmac. He could see her body twisted at an impossible angle, bones broken as the Londoners just walked on by. He knew she was in the hospital, the nurse had told him so. But the image of Ruth broken on the pavement wouldn't leave him. Green traffic light.

He drove on, and tried to distract himself. So, Ruth had put him down as her emergency contact. That should please him. But when he stopped to think about it… Her parents were both dead, she had no family left at all and no partner in her life. Now that he came to think about it, she must be so lonely. She had no one. Save him. A man whom she'd refused to marry not ten days ago. At Ros's funeral. _Please God don't give me another funeral to go to. Not hers. I want to die first. I'm older than her, its fair if I go first. Don't make me live in a world without her._

He was so lost in thoughts about Ruth that he nearly missed the turning to the hospital. He quickly turned left and parked the car, before racing to the hospital reception desk.

* * *

"Ruth Evershed," he breathed, a little out of breath from his impromptu jog through the car park.

"Are you family?"

"I'm her emergency contact," he said, annoyed with this. "You called me, I'm Harry Pearce."

Her mouth formed a silent "O" as she looked at him. "Sorry, yes. I'm just going to call through, to get a doctor to come down."

"Great," he said. "So she's alive?"

"Yes," she replied. "She's a... bit of a mess, but yes, she's alive."

"Okay," he said, feeling a slight lessening of the tension in his gut. "That's good." The receptionist smiled, then picked up the phone.

Harry sat down, tapping his foot on the floor with impatience. There were few other people here. A mother, her child sleeping against her shoulder as she stroked her hair, and an elderly man snoring in the corner. That was it.

He was grateful that they didn't keep him waiting too long. A doctor approached him, and before he could even open his mouth, Harry asked "how is she?"

"If you'd like to follow me?" Harry nodded and walked after the doctor. "Ruth has sustained serious injuries," he started. Her right side has been completely crushed by the car and she has… had internal bleeding which we've stopped surgically.

"You waited until after her surgery to call me?" he asked in disbelief.

"Well, to be honest I was more concerned with the fact that I had a patient who would die quickly without medical interference. For me, I thought it best to treat her, then look up her details." Harry found he couldn't argue with that. "Anyway, we've stopped her internal bleeding, but we've had to remove one of her kidneys, and a part of her liver. Also her right lung collapsed, so we've had to put her on a breathing tube to stop it happening again. She'll have that for a few days."

"Oh my God," he said. "Will she be alright without part of her liver?"

"Yes," the doctor said with confidence. "The liver regenerates, and within two or three months, that'll be back to normal. We are worried about her lung. She needs to fight."

"She's a fighter," Harry said. "She won't give up," as they stopped walking outside her hospital room.

"Well," the doctor said. "That's not up to us. Also she has a few broken bones too. Her right femur is fractured, so is her tibia, and a couple of toes which we're not really concerned about. Her radius and ulna are broken as well."

"A few broken bones?!" Harry questioned. "That's nearly half her body! And femur fractures take months to heal."

"I know," the doctor said. "I'm sorry. To be honest, the internal injuries are much more worrying. The bones, we will realign them and they'll heal.

"You _will_ realign them?" he asked. "You haven't done it yet?"

"We've fixed her arm, but we've put external fixation on the fractures her leg. We'll go back in a few days to align them properly when she gains a bit more strength. I didn't want her under anesthesia longer than necessary."

"Okay," Harry said.

"She'll probably won't wake up for a while," the doctor warned.

"I want to sit with her until she does," Harry said firmly. The doctor nodded in agreement.

"It might be a little bit of a shock to see her," the doctor warned. Harry nodded impatiently. He'd seen people tortured to death before by Iraqi's who were hardly famed for their kindness. Ruth wouldn't be… _couldn't_ be as bad as that. Then he opened the door.

Ruth looked worse that he could ever have imagined. "Oh my God." She was attached to so many wires and machines he could barely even see her. Just a few strands of dark hair around where her face should be. There were metal contraptions on her right leg which looked like a torture device, even though he knew it was keeping the bones straight, as they should be. Her face was obscured by a tube which was helping her breathe, her right arm was in a cast and she looked so very small and fragile.

"God Ruth," he said hoarsely. He sat down on her left side, her uninjured side and picked up her hand carefully. As if she might break if he handled her too roughly. She had two scratches across her face, her left cheek and her forehead. "I'm such an idiot."

He wanted to hear her agree with him, but of course she said nothing. He'd been avoiding her for about a week. Ever since he'd proposed and she'd said no, he hadn't been around her much. Because his pride was bruised, and he was hurting. What a stupid, stubborn, selfish man he'd been. It didn't matter! When he saw Ruth like this, none of it mattered. So, she'd turned him down, so bloody what? He'd wasted time. They'd both wasted so much time. "God Ruth, I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I'll make it up to you. You'll wake up, and I'll make it up to you. I promise." He felt like a prize idiot. How on earth could he feel upset about something so… well, trivial! Looking at Ruth now, it felt very trivial indeed.

* * *

**More soon. I've researched the medical details, but I've also just tweaked things for my own use. Hope no one's offended! If you have time, leave a review and thank you for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews for chapter one. Here's the next little bit.**

* * *

Harry stayed there all night, listening to the reassuring beeping of her heart monitor, watching her chest go up and down and permanently holding her hand. He must have dozed at some point because he came to with a jerk, and looked out of the window. Daylight was suddenly flooding in, and he looked at his watch. Ten in the morning. Yes, he must have slept. He squeezed Ruth's hand tightly before stretching, trying to make his body work from the uncomfortable night.

A nurse came in and smiled at him. "How's she doing?" he asked before the nurse even looked at the chart.

"Okay," she said after a few moments, examining her figures.

"Just okay?"

"Okay is pretty good after that kind of trauma," the nurse said, smiling in a reassuring way. "She should wake up today. Go and get yourself some coffee or breakfast."

"No," he said gently. "I can't leave her. I won't. Especially if she's going to wake up today."

She didn't even try to argue with him. One look at Harry Pearce made it perfectly clear that he wasn't moving until she awoke. "Let me bring you a coffee then. If you won't leave."

"I won't argue with that," he said. "Thank you." Harry watched Ruth for long minutes. The nurse checked her stats, went, and reappeared with a coffee a few minutes later. He thanked her profusely just before the caffeine started to work through his system. It was only then that he realised it. His hand, the one that was holding Ruth's had a gentle pressure on it.

"Ruth?" he questioned eagerly. He looked at her face, begging any deity in existence to make her wake up. "Come on, open your eyes. Please look at me." After about sixty seconds, her eyelashes fluttered and she did. Blue eyes, looking at him in fear. He smiled at her. "You're going to be all right," he said. She let go of his hand and moved it to her mouth, where the tube was, clearly wanting it gone. Harry shook his head quickly and took her hand back.

"No, you can't," he said firmly. "It's helping you to breathe. Your lung collapsed. It might do it again. Can you hear me?" he added, as she still looked completely blank. She nodded, eyes still wide and a pained expression on her face. "Are you hurting?" She nodded, eyes wide, as if begging him to understand and Harry pressed the call button for help.

"Please, she's in pain. She needs some painkillers or something," he said when a doctor appeared quickly. He nodded, checked her chart and then spoke to Ruth.

"Hi, I'm your doctor. Are you in pain?" She nodded eagerly. "Okay, I'll give you some drugs to deal with the pain, but it'll knock you for a few hours. Is that okay?" Her eyes flicked to Harry for a moment, as if considering before she nodded again.

"Right." He gave her an injection of a fast acting painkiller, and within seconds her eyes were going heavy lidded and her grip on Harry's hand slackened again. She was asleep again. The entire incident had probably lasted two or three minutes, and he'd lost her to sleep again. But she had woken up. And that alone had him smiling.

* * *

Ouch. She was just on the edge of consciousness, beginning to wake up and she felt a massive ball of pain in her stomach. And leg and arm now that she thought about it. Everywhere was pain. White hot, burning pain. Was this hell? Is this what it felt like? Permanent agony? She tried to open her eyes but they felt too heavy. Where didn't it hurt? Her left arm didn't hurt so much now that she thought about it. Actually, her left hand in particular. There was a slight weight on her and she tried to move her fingers to find out what it was. Was someone touching her?

"Ruth?" A mans voice wanting her. She knew that voice but couldn't pick up the name. Words had all become mixed and jumbled in her mind. "Come on, open your eyes. Please look at me." She loved this man. She loved his velvety voice, but at the moment his name was escaping her. Out of sheer curiosity, she opened her eyes. His face swam into view, hazel eyes concerned and he smiled at her. Ah. Harry. That was it.

With the return of consciousness though, she could feel every pain in her body as if it were magnified. Her throat felt raw, her body felt as if it were on fire. She had something stuck down her throat and she tried to get rid of it. Her right hand wouldn't move, so she picked up her left, but Harry stopped her. He said a lot of words that didn't make sense. Collapsed lung? She was in desperate pain, why didn't anyone understand? She needed help, she felt like she was dying from the pain. She tried to tell him with her eyes and finally he got the hint.

"Are you hurting?" She nodded as vigorously as she could. After a few more moments, a blessed relief ran through her. The pain was distant. Dull. Manageable. And then she felt reality fade from view.

* * *

**More soon.**


	3. Chapter 3

Harry still had hold of her hand, even though she'd fallen asleep hours before. He wanted to be here when she woke. Properly wakened rather than just a brief surge of consciousness clouded by pain. He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. He smiled, then looked at her face. Her eyelashes were fluttering.

"Ruth, I'm here," he said. She opened her eyes, then immediately pulled her hand free from his and to the tube in her throat. "No, Ruth we can't."

Her eyes were pleading with him. Begging him, and it broke his heart to say no. So he pushed the call button so another doctor could tell her no. Then he wouldn't be the bad guy. "She desperately wants that tube out," Harry told the nurse. "Is it at all possible?"

"I'll get doctor Grey, in charge of her care," the nurse said. "Give me a couple of minutes." She was as good as her word, all the time Ruth's eyes were silently pleading with him.

"I'm trying Ruth," he told her. She blinked in understanding. After explaining to the doctor, he seemed very cynical.

"I can't."

"Look, she can't speak like this," Harry said. "She needs to talk. She won't get better like this, with half her faculties gone." Ruth looked at him critically, as if asking if he really believed that.

"Fine. I'm willing to try, but I want you on an oxygen mask at all times, is that clear?" Ruth nodded fervently. Anything to get rid of the breathing tube. "And if you start to deteriorate, I'm going to have no choice but to intubate you again. Do you understand?" She nodded again. Harry let go of her hand so the doctor could have some room, and he felt the immediate loss of her touch. It took a matter of moments, but as soon as the tube was out, the doctor put a breathing mask on her face.

"Now take two normal breaths," he said. She did. "Now breathe a bit deeper." Again, she followed his instructions. "And now a deep breath, if you can." She did and then he nodded, seemingly satisfied. "I'm going to be checking on you every half an hour," he said. "Because I'd have liked that tube in for another day. Okay?" She nodded, her bulging eyes relaxed a little now that she'd got her way and could breathe on her own. The medical staff left and he knew Ruth was sighing with relief, even behind that mask.

"How do you feel?" he asked softly. She took the mask off, long enough to talk.

"Like I was hit by a truck," she said, her voice hoarse but her eyes twinkling.

"Is that what happened?" It suddenly occurred to Harry that he hadn't given one moment of thought as to how Ruth got injured in the first place. All he was focusing on were her injuries, and her survival. Making it to the next hour. "Do you remember what happened?"

She took a breath from the mask before speaking. "I think I do," she said. "Harry… I think I was pushed off of the pavement into oncoming traffic." She put the mask back on as Harry absorbed those words. "I've walked down that street a hundred times. A thousand." She took in a deep breath. "I wasn't drunk, and I don't think I just… slipped."

"But… why?" he asked in a little bit of shock. "Why push you into traffic?"

"I don't know," she said. "You might want to call the grid to find out. Check cameras…" she took another breath of oxygen. "Find out who did it. Or if I'm hallucinating, and no one pushed me at all. Maybe I just slipped. I thought I was pushed though." Another breath.

"I will," he said.

"Go on," Ruth said quietly. "How bad is it? I look down and it looks bloody awful, but tell me."

"Okay," he said. "Don't panic. Because you're here and you're awake, and that's what matters."

"Oh, it's bad," she muttered before snapping the mask back on and giving Harry her only movable hand. He reached for her gratefully, holding onto her with delight. He needed an anchor to her.

"Okay, when you got here, you had internal bleeding. They stopped it, but… it was bad. One of your kidney's has been removed, and so has a part of your liver. No, you'll be fine," he added at her wide frightened eyes. "The liver grows back, so as long as you don't drown in alcohol in the next couple of months, you'll be fine." She nodded. She didn't speak because she couldn't remove the mask with Harry holding her hand. But she didn't let go of his palm. She didn't want to. She needed him.

"You also had a collapsed lung, which is why you had the breathing tube." He didn't want to finish off the catalogue of her injuries, but she wouldn't let him get away that easily. She wriggled her hand free, took off the mask and asked, "and the bones Harry?"

"Well, you have a few broken toes," he said, starting with the lightest ones. She rolled her eyes and was clearly chastising him in her head. "Your radius and ulna in your arm are broken. They've cast that, as you can see. Also your tibia's fractured as is your femur."

"Oh no," she said. "So that's why I have this metal contraption on my leg," she said, looking down.

"Yeah," he agreed. "The leg… you're going to need another surgery. To fix it properly."

"Fantastic," she added sarcastically.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Harry, this isn't your fault," she said. She snapped the mask back on and closed her eyes.

"Don't…" he said. She looked at him. "Don't give up," he said. "It was touch and go for a while, so I know its hard, but don't…"

"Don't what?" she asked, her voice hoarse, but firm. "Don't die on you?"

"Mm," he said. "I can't lose you."

"I have no intention of dying," she said. "But I am tired. Call into the grid and find out who did this. Or if I'm crazy."

"I will," he promised. "Ruth… can I…" he trailed off, because it sounded pathetic, even inside his own head. Her eyes were encouraging though. "I'd like to kiss you," he said. "If that's okay." She smiled and nodded. He leant over her body and planted an incredibly soft kiss on her brow. "I'm going to make a few calls," he said. "I'll be back soon." She nodded and then sighed when alone.

Ruth thought about those last few moments before the shock of bright headlights hit her eyes. Her arm had been shoved. She knew it. She couldn't remember what he (or she) had looked like. All she could remember was the hand, pushing her so she stumbled off of the pavement into oncoming traffic. The screech of brakes, the blare of the car horns and the sickening thump as she was hit were filling her mind. That and a surge or remembered pain, as well as living with the pain of her injuries in the present.

* * *

**More soon, the plot stuff is coming next. Another big thank you for the reviews, and the next chapter will be up on Sunday.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, here comes the plot bit. Thanks to TheChicaChic for giving it a read through, and making sure it made sense, and thanks to all those who have left reviews too. And Malcolm had left by the time S9 started, but for the purposes of this fic, he never did. And swearing warning too.**

* * *

Harry turned his phone on once he was outside of Ruth's hospital room. He didn't want to go too far away from her. "Oh God," he said when it came into action. There were about thirty messages on his phone. Something had clearly happened, but he didn't even listen to them. It would be quicker to call Malcolm.

"Harry," his friend said when the phone was answered after only two rings.

"What's happened?" Harry asked, not even bothering with preliminaries.

"We've had the day from hell," Malcolm said simple. Harry almost snorted, because he had genuinely had the day from hell, and Malcolm had no idea what he was talking about. "You haven't seen the news have you?"

"No Malcolm, I've been a little busy," he said testily.

"Yes," he said heavily. "Sorry, I checked when neither you nor Ruth turned up for work and wouldn't answer your phones either. I assumed you were with her. How is she?"

"Honestly, not very good," Harry said. "She's awake, and she probably is going to heal, but… she looks awful Malcolm."

"I'm sorry," he said genuinely.

"That's why I called," Harry said. "She woke up and said someone pushed her into oncoming traffic." Harry tried hard to say it calmly, and not let his blood boil at those horrible words.

"Harry, yes, she was," Malcolm said.

"What?!"

"Someone wanted you out of the way," Malcolm said. "And they worked out that if Ruth were injured… then you…"

"Wouldn't come onto the grid until she was well," Harry finished for him, more angry that he'd ever been in his life. "Who did this?"

"Charles Thomas."

"Oh fuck it." Harry rubbed his face with sheer irritation, mixed with a little bit of understanding. So that was who was behind it. He'd kill him. "There's a file about Charles Thomas in my desk," Harry said. "Third drawer down, on top. It's a green file. He got out of prison a few months ago and that'll tell you all you need to know about him. I was going to check up on him this morning, but… Ruth."

"Of course," Malcolm said. "I understand. Your office is locked though."

"I'm perfectly well aware that you keep a spare key to my office," Harry said. "Use it."

"Er, it was only in case of emergencies," Malcolm said. "It wasn't to go snooping."

"I know that," Harry said. "You're my friend. You wouldn't go spying on me."

"Give Ruth my best," Malcolm said.

"I will," he said.

"And Harry?" Malcolm added. "You need to see the headlines. Charles Thomas has… stepped things up since he was released from prison."

"What is it?" Harry walked through the hospital as he was speaking, trying to find a waiting room with a TV. He did, and before Malcolm could say a word, Harry say quite clearly, what. The TV was on one of those 24 hour rolling news channels and the camera was focused on the Houses of Parliament. Except it didn't look like the houses of parliament should look. There was a gap, like a tooth that had been pulled. There was an empty, smoking space where Big Ben should have been. There was just a gap. Big Ben had gone. There was a mess of rubble on the street. The now empty street where it should have been heaving with rush hour traffic at the end of the working day. Harry stood in silent shock, looking at the images of his beloved London. Now with the landscape significantly altered.

Malcolm was talking, but Harry hadn't heard a word of it. He was still focused on the total shock of the devastation. "Ah. You've seen it then."

"Who did it?" Harry asked, still in a daze. "Charles?"

"Yeah," he said. "Though of course, absolutely everyone is blaming Islamic terrorists. No one would think a British citizen would either want to, or be able to blow up Big Ben."

"Charles Thomas is a crazed arsonist, who has something missing in his brain. Like compassion. He becomes so focused and determined when he has something that he's set his mind to achieve, that he does it, or dies trying. Or being arrested, like last time. He destroys just for the sake of it. Though he seems to have moved on to rather larger targets," Harry said. People in the waiting room were beginning to turn to him, overhearing the conversation and putting it together with what was being shown on the television. Harry decided to leave, walking back to Ruth's hospital room. He stayed outside though, because he didn't want to upset her.

"Casualties?"

"Only about thirty," Malcolm said. "All British nationals as…"

"Overseas visitors to the UK aren't permitted to go up the tower," Harry finished for him. "Perfect." He sighed, heavily and from the very depths of his soul. "Look, I can't come in today. Or tomorrow. Is that going to be a problem?"

"Harry, I'll cover for you for as long as I can. But there might be repercussions. You didn't come in. You didn't call or arrange cover for your absence… and a London landmark was bombed. And you had the perpetrators information locked in your desk drawer.

"Oh come on Malcolm," Harry said. "Because I didn't come to work, it's my fault that someone who is insane blew up the tower?"

"Of course not," Malcolm said. "But it's what they're going to think. I'm just… warning you."

"Have you caught Charles Thomas yet?"

"Er… no," Malcolm said. "Considering this bombing has no real motive except to cause mass destruction, with no political intent behind it, and he'd been moving about from day to day, different B and B's and similar, we don't actually know where to look. But Lucas is working on it and following a hunch," he added, trying to reassure Harry.

"There's a storage unit on Charlotte Street, Camden. Unit number 341. The number to get into it is 290470. There'll be a taunting note left for me there, from Thomas. There'll be something there, I'm sure of it."

"Okay," Malcolm said. "Is it his or yours?"

"It's mine, but it isn't on any of my files or property lists," Harry said. "I thought it might be wise to have something to hide things, if I ever needed it. And in this job, you just might."

"Then how does Thomas know about it?" Malcolm asked.

"I… don't want to say," Harry said quietly. "I've met him before, and I know him from an old operation. He knows I became section head though. It happened just after." Harry wasn't saying everything but Malcolm could sense not to push it.

"He's got a long term, immovable grudge against me," Harry admitted.

"Which he seems to be fully dedicated to, if he pushed Ruth under a car," Malcolm said.

"He could have killed her by pushing her into oncoming traffic," Harry said bitterly. "She could be dead by now. Even as it is, she's going to have months before she's back to normal. I don't care about Thomas's reasoning."

"I've got Dimitri on the storage unit," Malcolm said. "I say this as a friend Harry. They're going to have your job for this. When it's all over and we've caught him, which we will. They will need to blame someone and as you vanished without a trace, with information about the culprit in your desk, it will be you."

"Maybe," Harry said, even though he hadn't done much wrong. "After today, my job isn't my foremost concern. What happened to the car that hit Ruth?" Harry asked.

"The woman driving it was hysterical," Malcolm said. "She called emergency services immediately, and I'm fairly certain she wasn't involved. Violet Ingles. She kept repeating that the woman just "fell" in front of her car. It tallies with the fact that Ruth says she was pushed at any rate.

"CCTV?"

"Patchy, but it does look like it. Harry, don't go hunting him down. We can deal with this. He will be brought to justice, but don't go on a one man quest for revenge. I know you. And from the sounds of it, Charles Thomas knows you too, and that is exactly what he'll expect you to do. Because Ruth is so hurt, and you know who did this to her, all you want to do is to hunt him down and kill him."

Malcolm wasn't wrong. It was exactly what his instincts were screaming at him to do. To hunt Charles Thomas down and kill him. Slowly.

"And he didn't do this just to keep you out of the way while he carried out his plan. Judging on your history, he did it to hurt you."

"I know," Harry agreed. "He hates me." _For good reason,_ he added privately to himself. "Its not just me who's hurt though is it? I want to be kept updated Malcolm. I need to know how the hunt is going."

"Of course," he said. "Now forget about us, and look after Ruth. That is the important thing right now."

"I know," he said. "I want updates though. Okay?"

"Of course. Bye Harry," he said. Harry put the phone down and change his face into impassivity. He couldn't worry Ruth, even though he knew she'd see through it instantly. He went back into her room, and saw that she was sleeping. He sat down next to her and wondered what he'd say to her. About why she was hurt.

She shifted to move the mask, still with her eyes closed. "I heard you come in," she said. "My ears still work perfectly well thank you. The only part of me that still does work well." Her eyes popped open, and she saw the look on his face. "Tell me."

"Don't get upset or panic," he said quietly.

"That sounds really bad," she said. "What could be worse than this?" So Harry slowly and calmly told her everything.

* * *

**More soon.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you for the reviews. Having written a few chapters ahead, this is turning out to be very plot involved.**

* * *

"Say something Ruth," he said. She was quiet, absorbing everything he'd told her.

"Who told him?" she said, surprising him.

"Who told who what?" Harry asked.

"Charles Thomas has been in prison for what, fifteen years, yes?"

"Yes," Harry said.

"So, how could he have got the information?" Ruth asked. "About the fact that I'm… important to you. That if I were hurt, you, the workaholic, wouldn't go near the grid. Or, that the way to hurt you was by hurting me?"

She was very carefully asking the question "Who told Charles Thomas that you love me?" But she wasn't using the word love, probably for both of their sakes. Neither wanted to be embarrassed and after the refused proposal, they weren't quite sure where they were in their relationship. Especially odd when they didn't have a relationship that could be defined by words.

But she had a point, and it was something he hadn't thought about. Who had told Charles Thomas what Ruth meant to him? "It can't be anyone from section D," Harry said. "It just can't be."

"Harry, I "died" for you four years ago," she said in between breaths of oxygen from the mask. "And then I miraculously come back from the dead after your interference with the Home Secretary. It could be anyone in 5, 6 the JIC. Anyone. Because I think the whole of Thames house, and all the sections in MI5 know that there's… something indefinable between us. And people gossip. We're more than just friends and colleagues, Harry."

"Are we?" he asked, for the moment forgetting the spooks part of the conversation. "What are we Ruth? Really, what?"

"You know," she said. "I know you feel it."

"I do," he said. "Which is why I asked you to marry me."

"Ah. The elephant in the room."

"Ruth… why? If… you feel…"

"I do feel that way," she said, looking him right in the eyes, and trying to make it clear just how much she did feel. How much she ached for him. "But Harry, proposing to me was completely wrong. We've known each other for eight years. And we've been on only one date. Do you really think that marriage is a good idea? I mean, you haven't even kissed me for four years. It's insane."

"Great," he said sarcastically. But she carried on.

"I never once said I did not want to be with you, or that I didn't want a relationship with you. I said I couldn't marry you."

It took a minute for him to absorb her words. To realise what she was actually telling him. "You mean… you want us?"

"Of course I want us," she said. "Of course I want you. If you hadn't spent the last week avoiding me because of your bruised ego, you'd know that." She put the mask back on her face as he took in her words and smiled for the first time in weeks. A proper, genuine Harry smile. She felt her own face softening in response, she never could resist that look of happiness on his face.

"So you mean, when this is… done with. The operation, Charles Thomas and all this… that you'll… We'll…"

"Harry Pearce? Struggling to ask a woman out? I never thought I'd see the day," she said, smiling at him.

"Will you go out with me?" he asked. "Dinner? A film?"

"As soon as I can walk again, of course I will," she said simply. "You only ever had to ask me." On impulse, he leaned over her and kissed her soft lips, gently and seductively. He flicked his tongue against the seam of her lips and she opened her mouth, a tiny little sigh of pleasure coming from her. Their kiss would have carried on, had Harry not suddenly remembered she was meant to be breathing with the help of an oxygen mask. He pulled back.

"I'm so…"

"No, don't you dare," she said. "Don't apologise for kissing me. Where were we?"

"Discussing how Charles Thomas knew you were important to me," Harry said. "Who gave him the information? Someone had to, it's not like he could have just seen us out in public together, because we haven't been."

"Yes," she agreed. "Someone told him. Or was bribed. It wouldn't be breaking the official secrets act would it? That state of our relationship is hardly a national secret."

_Though sometimes it feels that way sometimes_, Harry said to himself. "I had another question too. Why me? Or us. Why is he so against you? Why pick you? He could have gone for anyone in MI5, what makes you special?"

"I went against him a few years ago," Harry said slowly, picking his words carefully. "I was the reason he ended up in prison, and he holds a mean grudge, with a long memory. It's a bad combination, and that's why."

She looked at him, and knew he was hiding something from her. "Now the truth," she said.

"That is the truth."

"Harry, don't lie to me. I so hate it when you lie to me."

He was about to reply when the door opened and Ruth's doctor came in. The look on Ruth's face made it clear that the subject was not dropped, it was simply postponed. "How are you feeling today Ruth?" he asked.

"All things considered, okay," she said. "You know, how your average patient feels after being crushed by a tonne of twisted metal." The doctor looked at her, staying perfectly still for a moment.

"Getting your sense of humour back then," he said. She attempted to shrug, but with only one uninjured arm, this didn't come off very well. "I want to test your lung function, can you breathe into this machine for me?" She nodded and followed the doctors orders into what felt suspiciously like a breathalyser. He looked at the numbers and then smiled. "Your lungs look surprisingly healthy. Considering," he said. "If you don't have any deterioration in your health overnight, in the morning I will recommend that you go back into surgery to fix your leg properly."

"Oh, that soon?"

"You're doing better than I thought you would," he said. "For starters you're sitting up and talking to us, which is more than I thought you would be."

"Will that get rid of this horrible metal thing sticking out of my skin?"

"Yes," he said. "That will be gone, but there will be metal pins inside your leg."

"Inside my leg?"

"Yes, we put a rod inside the bone so it will align, because femur fractures take a lot of force to break, so a long time to heal." Harry wished the doctor hadn't put it quite like that, because it gave him horrible images. "So going through airports will be fun," Ruth said.

"Don't worry, people have metal in all sorts of areas of the body these days," the doctor said kindly. "It'll go on your file, and the scanners know what they're looking for."

"Well, I don't have much choice, do I?" she said.

"Not if you want to walk again, no," the doctor said. "I'll schedule you for the morning?"

Ruth looked at Harry for a moment before answering. "Yes," she said. "Get it done with. Sooner it's done, the sooner I can go home. Which won't be for…"

"A while," the doctor said unhelpfully.

"Do I still have to wear the oxygen mask?"

"Have to? No," the doctor replied "But I would recommend it for when you're sleeping. It will help."

The three of them fell into silence while the doctor checked Ruth's statistics. He didn't look upset with any of them, so Ruth took that as a good sign.

"I'd like to have a private word with you if you don't mind," Harry said, and Ruth frowned in curiosity. What on earth could he be talking about which he wouldn't do in front of her. "It's not related to you," he said, kissing the top of Ruth's head and walking out of the door.

"Harry, we are not finished with our conversation," she called.

"I'll be back," he replied. Ruth didn't call him back, because she had no idea what he was doing. When outside, the doctor looked at him expectantly.

"I want to be honest with you," Harry said. "I need this to be kept in confidence."

"Of course," the doctor said. After all, medical professionals were used to keeping their patients secrets.

"Okay," Harry continued. "Firstly, there's a copy of the official secrets act on it's way to you." The doctor frowned deeply. "Myself and Ruth, we both work for MI5. And I believe… I'm fairly certain she was pushed under a car. I am very worried that the person who did this is going to come back and finish off the job."

"Right," he said slowly, disbelievingly. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want there to be no unauthorised people in the operating room when she has her leg set. I need everything to be double and triple checked. Down to double checking the anaesthetic. I want you to be sure."

"Okay," the doctor replied. "We check anyway, but I will be… thoroughly vigilant."

"Good," Harry said firmly. "I'm also going to have a couple of men come and stand outside her door."

"You're really worried aren't you?" the doctor questioned, suddenly realising that this man was serious.

"Yes, I am," Harry replied. "I… don't know what's going to happen. But I'll be devastated if something happens, and I could have prevented it, so I'm going to call for some extra security for her."

"Have you spoken to Ruth about this?"

"I don't want to worry her more than necessary," Harry said, avoiding the question. "I'll… be more comfortable with extra security. Anyway, it's not like she can walk out of the door and see if anyone's watching her." The doctor looked at him in silence. "Okay, that was in poor taste," he said. "Just… be aware."

The doctor nodded in agreement. "I will be."

"Good," Harry went back into Ruth's hospital room, unaware that the hospital doors were very thin, and she'd heard everything.

"What did you want with him?" she asked, keeping her face impassive.

"I asked about the casualties of the terror attack," Harry said without even flinching at the lie. "If there'd been any survivors."

Ruth hit him. Harry looked at her, eyes wide in shock. She'd slapped him with her left hand, so it didn't hurt, it was just the surprise of her actually trying to slap him. "What are you doing?!"

"Don't lie to me," she said. "I… it's like you don't respect me enough to tell me the truth."

"You heard?" he asked.

"I did hear, but that's not the point. I can tell when you're lying anyway," she said. "I know you Harry. I know you better than anyone else. Don't lie."  
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, gripping her hand in his. "I didn't want to worry you."

"Do you think I'm in danger?" she asked.

"Part of me does," he said. "He would want to kill you. To hurt me, I know that. But walking into a public hospital when his picture is being shown on the news channels as being wanted in connection with the bombing is risky. Very risky."

"You just hope he won't," Ruth said simply.

"Of course I do," Harry said. "You think I want him to come here and hurt you?"

"No, sorry," she said. "Stupid comment."

"No matter what you tell me, I'm going to have a couple of guards here for you."

"It's a good idea," she said, much to his surprise. He expected her to argue, to say that she was safe and he was being paranoid. But she'd so easily agreed to extra protection. And that worried him an awful lot more than anything else had today.

* * *

**More soon, and thank you for the reviews so far. All medical details have been research, but I've also invented things to make the story work.**


	6. Chapter 6

Harry didn't leave Ruth for a second, until back up came and she was asleep. He recognised both men by sight, but not name and he wondered about them. Then he thought he was probably being paranoid. Even so, he asked Malcolm to have a discreet look into their bank accounts, just in case they were being paid to supply information. Spook habits are hard to break after all.

"Johnson, I want to be called if there is anything in the least bit suspicious. It doesn't matter what time of night, call me."

"Right you are sir," he said easily. Harry left once Malcolm had given the all clear on Johnson and Sevi's background checks, and then he headed towards the grid. He couldn't solve this mess in hospital, or at home. So there was only one place he could go.

* * *

"Tell me," he said, walking through the pods. Malcolm, the only one who'd had contact with Harry today attempted a smile at his friend. The others met him with a mixture of hellos, how's Ruth? and grim faces.

"Dimitri went to the storage unit as suggested. This was there." Malcolm handed over a note, handwritten and even though it had been fifteen years since he'd seen the script, he recognised the hand as belonging to Charles Thomas.

_Ah Harry. So we meet again, in a manner of speaking. Do I have your attention yet? Good. You see Harry, the problem is I have a long memory, and I remember what you did to me. My sense of forgiveness is somewhat lacking too. Well, I have no intention of being caught. You destroyed my life, now it's my turn to destroy yours. So I'll be seeing you sooner or later. You can count on it. CT_

"He's threatening you," Malcolm said.

"I don't blame him," Harry said, almost as if to himself.

"Harry, what did you do to him?" Lucas asked. It seemed no one else dared to.

"What happened to his wife?" Harry asked, ignoring the question.

"Divorced while he was in prison," Malcolm said, reading off of the file on his computer screen. "And she… ah."

"What?"

"She was killed in a hit and run a year before Thomas got out of prison."

"And there we have it," Harry said quietly. "That's what pushed him over the edge." Harry sighed heavily. Malcolm nodded to Harry's office, so they could speak without being overheard and Harry inclined his head in agreement and they walked away from everyone else.

"Some kind of sick justice there," Harry said. "His wife died under a car, so he gives me the same horror to deal with."

"What did you do to Charles Thomas?" Malcolm asked when they were alone. "And I want the truth, not what you plan on telling everyone else."

"What this obsession with the truth?" Harry asked, getting irritated. "We're spies, we lie by definition."

"Not to each other," Malcolm said stiffly. "Look, I can't help you if I don't know what's going on. Charles Thomas could have picked anyone in the security services to contact. Why did he push Ruth under a car, and why does he want to ruin you?"

"Because I… framed him fifteen years ago," Harry admitted. "I met him at that storage unit, and I planted some evidence on him. As soon as he was out on the street, they arrested him. It was… rather nicely done. He couldn't wriggle out of it, even with his lawyer."

"Harry, you…"

"He was guilty, and everyone knew it," Harry said. "Come on Malcolm. You know this job and you know how it works. You know the fact of someone's guilt, and the question of whether it would stand in a courtroom are two completely different things. We just couldn't prove it." Harry sighed. "But this seems a lot of energy to go through if he were guilty. I don't know, maybe he wasn't." He shook his head and sighed heavily.

"What we knew for certain, he was talking to the Japanese responsible for the Sarin subway attack in Tokyo. He'd travelled to Japan three times in 94 for three weeks at a time, and we had no idea what he was up to. But he wasn't seeing the sights, because there were no expenses on his credit cards either."

"Plus, the Japanese don't exactly like sharing their information with us. Thomas was meeting with a chemical scientist in this country, we thought to provide him with Sarin or similar, but we couldn't bug the suite to find out for sure. He was a man who adored explosions and bombs to an unhealthy level. We had circumstantial evidence linking him to a similar plan on our own underground network. But it was circumstantial only."

Malcolm sighed deeply. This was beginning to get complicated. "They didn't catch all of the perpetrators from Tokyo either," Malcolm said. "Three of them at least are still on the run."

"I know," Harry said. "The fact that several of them have been on the run since 95 does not fill me with confidence, especially as Charles Taylor was talking to these people."

"Possibly talking to them," Malcolm corrected. Harry glared at him. "You never know."

"We wanted to avoid another attack like this. So, MI5 as a whole agreed on what to do, and I was the man nominated to do it. I planted evidence. Which got him sent away for twenty years. Out in fifteen for good behaviour, so it seems now. It was one of my last operations before I became section head. It seems that he's focusing on me for his revenge."

"So you didn't actually give the order?" Malcolm asked.

"No," Harry said. "But he doesn't know that, and I didn't go against it. No one did. It was the right thing to do. We were terrified that something like that could happen in the UK, and we had to… get rid of the problem. I was the one who did it, but the whole team agreed. I'm not proud of it, because there always was the slightest chance he was innocent. It's why I don't like it being common knowledge."

"Was Lucas there at the time?" Malcolm asked, suddenly struck by a thought.

"No," Harry said. "He came in 1996. After this mess was behind us. And Charles Thomas was a distant memory. I wish he was a distant memory now. Everyone who was there has now gone. So again, in Charles Thomas's eyes, I'm a good... the only target."

"Mm, I think I was in section G at the time," Malcolm said thoughtfully. "You called me over when you got the job of section head." Harry smiled at the memory.

"I wanted you on my side," he said with a grin. "God forbid you ended up working for someone like Oliver Mace."

"True," Malcolm said with a smile. "It's not your fault Harry. In this job, we have to do unsavoury things. For the greater good. It doesn't make you a bad man."

"Well, I expect when I tell Ruth why she was hit by a car, her opinion may differ from yours."

"It won't," Malcolm said. "She knows how this works. Go home," he advised. "Get some sleep."

Harry decided to take his advice. After all, there wasn't much he could do here.

* * *

Much to his surprise, Harry had slept well. He made some calls before he'd even woken up properly. He had the tech team called overnight, to check his security, that his phone lines weren't being bugged and he had no cameras watching him. The results were good, which meant he felt free enough to call the hospital, to check on Ruth. Of course he would go there himself, but a phone call was quicker.

"Yes, Ruth Evershed please," he said. He went through the rigmarole of proving who he was, due to his tightened security checks he'd implemented the day before. Well, at least they were taking it seriously, he thought to himself.

"Right, yes," the nurse slash receptionist said. "She's had a good night, her stats have stayed stable and constant, and we're taking her into the operating room at nine this morning."

"That's great," Harry said, moving to try and get dressed, and wake his brain up.

"Are you coming in to see her this morning?"

"Of course I am," Harry said. "She's having an operation. Why wouldn't I be there?"

"It's just, she had a visitor last night."

* * *

**More soon, and I hope this makes sense! Thank you very much for the reviews so far, and I'll probably put up another chapter tomorrow.**


	7. Chapter 7

Harry froze for a second. He literally stopped moving, his hand hovering in the middle of reaching for his socks. "What?"

"She had a visitor," the nurse repeated on the phone.

"Who?"

"Er…" she said, aware of the urgency in Harry's voice and that she may well have messed up. "A Mrs Elizabeth Bickley."

Harry felt the tension lessen slightly. Ruth's mother. That was okay then, even though he had no idea how Elizabeth had found out her daughter was in hospital. Had Ruth called her? Probably, he thought to himself. Even so, he still felt the need to see that she was okay, and that nothing untoward had happened. So he quickly ended the call and hurried to dress as fast as he could.

* * *

He walked into Ruth's room quietly. She was still sleeping, so he sat down opposite her, and checked the machines. With his limited medical knowledge, it looked good. He turned back to Ruth's face and saw her eyes wide open, looking at him. "How'd you sleep?" he asked quietly.

"I had a visitor at two in the morning," Ruth said. It wasn't said in a tone that reassured Harry.

"Who?"

"I have no idea," she said and Harry felt his heart clench uncomfortably. "A woman came in, woke me, put a gun to my head and warned me not to scream. So your security is absolutely useless," she added.

"I knew it," Harry said. "She was posing as your mother. It says Elizabeth Bickley on the visitors forms. I'm keeping a close eye, after what happened to you," in explanation.

"Great," Ruth said sarcastically. "Just perfect."

"So what happened?"

"I got given this," Ruth said. "To give to you." She reached under her pillow with her good hand and found the envelope. "I didn't open it," she said. "I didn't want to."

"So you slept terribly," he surmised, holding the envelope carefully.

"No," she said. "Thank hospital drugs though. I don't think I've slept this well ever. Since my father died," she added. Harry looked at her, surprised. She never mentioned her father. Or not to him. If he hadn't read her personnel file when she'd applied for the analyst's job, he'd never have known her father was even dead.

"Tell me Harry," she said. "Why does this man hate you? Why did he try to kill me. I want to know why I'm frightened."

Looking into those honest blue eyes of hers, he knew he had to tell her. So he did. When he'd finished his explanation, almost identical to the one he'd given Malcolm the night before, Ruth nodded in the silence.

"Do you hate me? For putting you in danger like this?"

"No," she said. "You did it before you even knew I existed." She sighed heavily. "And anyway, if we were all blamed for the wrong things we did… we do in this job, no one would ever work for the security services. We help more than we hurt, Harry. And you thought you were doing the right thing at the time."

Until she'd given it, he didn't realise how much he needed her acceptance of his past actions. He kissed her lips, very softly. "Thank you," he said. "I don't deserve you."

"Open it," she said, nodding at the envelope. Harry took her advice, carefully parting it. Inside was nothing more dangerous than another note, like the first that had been left at his storage unit.

_Hello again Harry. I could have killed her. Again. But then, it's always the third time that's the charm isn't it? Third time lucky. And yes, I will be back, and I will be seeing you both again in the distant future. I'll let you worry about me for a bit. You won't catch me until I want to be caught. Oh, and I hear you've hardly left her side. It's touching really. _

_Just as a side note, how's your career looking right about now? Rosy, I'll bet. The man in charge of counter terrorism allowing a major London landmark to turn into rubble. I can't see that going very well for you Harry. Do you think you'll manage to avoid prison?_

_Yours until next time, CT._

Harry had paled while reading it, and he held it out to Ruth after she demanded to read it. He wouldn't hide it from her, that she was in danger. He couldn't. She paled as well and then sighed heavily, handing it back. "What did the woman look like?" Harry asked, knowing that finding her was important.

"Er… middle fifties maybe. Attractive. Blonde hair. She had an accent, let me think." Ruth was silent as she engaged her memory. "French," she said after a moment. "It may have been Belgian, but I think it was French."

"Perfect," Harry said, thrilled with her memory under pressure. "Could it have been adopted?"

"No, it was a genuine one," she said.

"Height?"

"I have no idea," Ruth said. "Laying down, I can't really tell. She wasn't more than six foot or less than five though."

"Right," he said. Harry called Malcolm and relayed the information.

"Harry?" she said, when he was off of the phone. He looked at her. "I'm frightened. I've worked for MI5 for so long, but I've never actually felt like this. Like a disaster is coming and I can do nothing to avoid it."

"I know," he said. "I wish I had some reassuring words for you, but I don't."

"Yeah," she said. "Kiss me. That'll make me feel better."

He wasn't sure about that, but he wasn't about to turn her down either. He leaned over the bed and moulded his lips to hers. She needed more and deepened the kiss, much to his delight. Eventually they parted, and when they did, they were both breathing heavily.

"It's bad for your lung, that," he said softly.

"I don't care," she replied. She smiled at him, a soft smile reserved just for him.

"Look, do me a favour," he said. "You just concentrate on healing, and I'll deal with Charles bloody Thomas."

"Okay," she said. "I can do that."

"Good." He kissed her briefly. "I'm going to find that French woman," he assured her. At that moment two orderlies came in, to take Ruth to the operating room. They showed Harry their identification and he nodded in satisfaction. "You ready?" Harry asked her.

"To get this thing off of my leg? Yeah, I'm ready," she said.

"I'll be back in the hospital after your operation."

"Great," she said. "I know you have to go and… sort this all out."

"What an eloquent way of putting it," Harry said. He kissed her lips softly once more, before she was wheeled away, leaving Harry alone, note clutched in hand. He was far more worried than he was admitting, even to himself.  
He left the hospital, but made sure they'd call him every hour with updates as to how Ruth's operation was going. He'd been reassured that this was a fairly straight forward operation, but if anything went wrong, and he wasn't here, he'd never forgive himself. He hated that he had to be somewhere else, but the long term goal was her safety. He held on to that thought as he got into his car and drove off.

* * *

**More soon, and thank you so much for the reviews. They really make it worth the effort of writing.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Another plotty chapter. Enjoy.**

* * *

He'd just parked at the underground car park for Thames House when he got a call. Jane._ No, not today_. "What do you want?" he asked, answering the call, the result of an ingrained habit.

"Such a charming way to answer the phone," she said, in her usual snide manner.

"Jane, I've had the week from hell, if you've just called to taunt me…"

"No, I haven't," she said. "I'm sorry. That was… uncalled for."

"Have you watched the news recently?" Harry asked. "As my ex wife, I think you can imagine what pressure I'm under right now."

"It's about Ruth." Harry froze, completely still as a horrible suspicion came to him.

"How did you know about her?"

"I need to meet you. Today," Jane said. "I won't discuss it over the phone."

"Jane, I'm really busy."

"The millennium footbridge," she said. "You pick the time. I'll be there."

"Er…" he looked at his watch, estimating how long he'd need on the grid. "Give me an hour."

"Okay," she said. "And Harry?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

"You bitch." Harry had disconnected the call before swearing, but he was fairly sure what Jane wanted to tell him, and he didn't like I one bit.

* * *

"Go on then." Harry had rushed across London to get to the footbridge on time. A task made more difficult by the fact that there were several unexplained road closures, Westminster was still under a figurative black cloud, and it had now attracted tourists who wanted to see the empty space where Big Ben used to be. So the police were called for crowd control, which was ridiculous, when police time could be used for more important things. He'd seen Jane looking over the river, and walked up to her quietly. But she knew him too well, and he knew he'd lost the element of surprise.

"Explain," he said. He knew he was speaking harshly, but he couldn't seem to stop it.

"I'm sorry."

"What did you do?"

"I think I told… whoever it was about your relationship with Ruth," she said.

"What happened?" he asked, resigned.

"Are you wearing a wire?"

"No Jane, of course I'm not," he said. "Besides, I'm probably going to be arrested by the end of the week, so whatever I say will carry little weight anyway."

"Arrested?" she asked.

"They're going to need someone to blame," Harry said. "And we don't have the instigator of this attack. I'm just looking on the negative."

"I just met a man," she said simply. "I was in St James's park, waiting to meet Catherine, who never showed. She wouldn't just not meet me though, now that I think about it. Maybe she was never going to. I got talking to a stranger I met. That's all."

"How long ago?"

"About a month ago," she said. "I didn't think anything of it at the time, he was just a nice stranger. We ended up talking about relationships and… you came up in conversation. I did mention the fact that you were a philanderer when we were married. I pointed out it was interesting, now that you seem to be completely faithful to one woman. And I did mentioned her name, I think I did anyway, I honestly can't remember."

"How did you know that in the first place?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"Catherine," Jane said. "She mentioned it. She said you'd changed and that you'd told her you were missing someone desperately. Who left the country several years ago. Catherine mentioned her name. I do have a good memory?"

"Of course Catherine did," Harry said. "How could you be so short sighted to tell a stranger personal details about me. Or yourself! God Jane, what if he'd gone after Catherine? Or Graham? What then?"

"I don't live in your world Harry," Jane said. "I don't think that every person I meet is a terrorist, or a criminal, or out to get something. I can't imagine how sad it is that you live like that. I only recognised him when his photo came on the news. Wanted in connection with the Big Ben bombing?"

"Yes," Harry said. "One among other crimes too."

"What's he done?"

"He's trying to hurt me," Harry said. "He pushed Ruth into oncoming traffic. She is bloody lucky she wasn't killed. As it is, she'll have months of recovery, and right now she's in surgery, having a metal rod inserted into her femur."

Jane went white, and looked horrified. "All because I mentioned it to him?" she asked quietly. "Someone got so hurt, because of me?"

Harry felt himself softening towards her. After all, Charles Thomas would have found out from someone. Someone would have told him who meant the most to him in the world eventually. "You weren't the one who pushed her off of the pavement," he said.

"No, I know," Jane said. "He just seemed nice, and we were just talking. The kind of friendly conversation where you don't think the other person's really paying that much attention." Harry guessed Charles had put a lot of effort into making it look that way, and he felt a grudging respect for his tradecraft. He probably had to direct the conversation so subtly, especially as he wasn't sure what he could use.

"Did you mention our children to him?" Harry asked urgently.

"I don't think so," Jane said. "I told him I was waiting for someone, but I'm… almost sure I didn't say who."

"Do you think I should send protection to Catherine and Graham?" Harry asked.

"Is it that serious?"

"He wants to destroy my life," Harry said. "He threw Ruth under a car, came back and used his accomplice to point a gun at her head in the hospital, even when she was under guard. Threaten her. Promise to kill her in the future."

Which is what that second note was alluding to after all. _Third times the charm._ "If he knows about my children. Or where to find them…" Harry swallowed uncomfortably.

"They aren't in Britain," Jane said. Harry tried not to show how much this hurt him. That he didn't even know which country his children were in..

"Where are they?" he asked.

"Catherine is in Israel," Jane said, sniffing with disapproval at her daughters choice of career. "Graham's in Athens."

"What's he doing over there?" Harry asked. Jane looked at him as if wondering how much to say. "I am trying to make sure our children are safe. Now is not the time to keep your mouth shut."

"His girlfriend lives in Athens," Jane said.

"If you agree, I'll have someone from six keep an eye on both of them," Harry said. "I don't think they'll be in danger, as I'm certain Charles Taylor can't leave the country anyway, but I'd rather be safe."

"Do it," Jane said. "The honest answer is I don't remember what I said. It wasn't important at the time, and it was only seeing his face on the news that had me panicking. And having the children safe far outweighs the fact that they will both hate being followed for a few days until this man is caught. And it's my fault anyway. I'll let them blame me if they don't like it."

"Thank you Jane," he said sincerely. "And he would have found out about Ruth anyway. At some point." As Ruth had told him, everyone in the security service was aware of what was between them. And gossip was a strong force within Thames House.

Harry's phone buzzed, and he knew he couldn't ignore it. It was an update on Ruth. "Jane, I have to go," he said, finger hovering over the answer button. "Can you warn Catherine and Graham? I don't want the security I organise to come as a total shock to them. Hang on," he added, as he answered the call.

"Yes?"

"Mr Pearce?"

"Yes, how is she?"

"Out of surgery, and in recovery now," the nurse said. "It's gone very well. There should be no problems at all."

"That's great," Harry said. "How long will she be in hospital?"

"Maybe a couple of days more," the nurse said. "We want to make sure all of her injuries are healing, and that her internal organs are working, but otherwise she can go home to recover."

"That's great," Harry repeated. "I'll be there in…" he looked at his watch. "An hour." He disconnected the call, then looked at Jane again.

"I really am sorry," she said. "I never intended any harm to come to… anyone."

"I believe you," Harry said. He turned to walk away when she called him back.

"Do you love her?" Harry stopped, and looked at her. "Ruth. Do you… does it work in a way that it never did with me?"

He paused, thinking through what he could possibly say to her about that. And what would he want to say, or feel comfortable with divulging. "Yes Jane," he said. "I do love her."

"More than you did with me?"

Harry only answered because she was honestly asking him. She wasn't accusing him of anything. His physical relationship with Ruth was non existent, but it didn't need to be. He loved her with his entire being. "It's different," he said. "I loved you at the time Jane, I did. But I never… I was never happy to let you go. We were both petty and jealous, and… just not good for each other. With her, if she wanted it, I… love her enough to let her go. Is that more, or is it different?"

"I think it's more," she said quietly. "Call me if you need anything Harry." He nodded in agreement. Jane walked away, and Harry watched for a moment, before remembering that he was supposed to be on his way to the hospital to see Ruth. So he turned, left and hailed a taxi.

* * *

**Again, medical details are being invented. More soon.**


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm adjusting medical details to suit the story from this point on, so please ignore the fact it's unrealistic.**

* * *

When he walked in, Ruth was awake and smiling at him. Appreciating the novelty of the fact he was allowed to do this, he walked over to her and kissed her, letting his lips linger on hers. "How are you?"

"I've been better," she said, nodding at the fresh cast on her leg. "But I don't hurt."

"That's good," he said.

"Harry, do you know when I can get out of here?" she asked, and he could see she was desperate.

"Are you bored?"

"Bored and frightened," she said. "I'd rather be at home, than here waiting for a crazed man with a vendetta against you to come and kill me. I'd feel far safer at home."

"I don't know," he said. "They're probably going to want you in for a few days." She sighed with irritation, and Harry was rather pleased that she was getting bored with life in hospital. It meant she was getting better and healing. "Well, I do have a present for you," he said.

"Oh yeah?" she said sceptically. "Let me guess, a mountain bike," she added sarcastically. He looked at her and her lips twitched. "Sorry."

He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a kindle, with a bow tied around it. He thought wrapping paper might be pushing it as she only had one functioning arm. "Oh that's really sweet," she said, smiling at him. "Thank you."

"It's got loads of books already on it," he said. "Er… everything I could think of for you. Shelly, Jane Austen, Bronte's. Ovid," he added, looking at her with such an intensity that it made her blush. "You've got some Dickens on there too, and a selection from the bestsellers lists this year."

"You do think of everything don't you?" she said. "That's really thoughtful of you. Thank you." He kissed her again and then she wrinkled her nose. "Though Dickens?"

"I like him," Harry defended. "Everything except A Christmas Carol, which has been bastardised to death. You won't find that on there."

She grinned at him, clearly happy. Then her smile faded, and he knew she was thinking of Charles Thomas. "Any news?"

"No," he said. "I've got Malcolm and Tariq scanning the databases, but nothing yet. They'll call when they get something."

"Okay," she said. "I'm…"

"I know," he replied. He gripped her hand tightly. How worried they were didn't need to be stated.

* * *

Harry bit his lip, thinking about just what he would say. He was good at getting information out of people. He was also good at trying to get people to do what he wanted. This might be pushing it though. Ruth had asked him to see if he could get her discharged. Normally he'd be against it until the doctors suggested it, but with a madman on the lose, he thought the less people had access to her, the better. And like it or not, a public hospital had a lot of people going through it on daily basis.

He approached the doctor, as soon as he came in, grabbing a few patient files.

"Doctor Grey, I'd like to speak to you for a moment," Harry said, trying his best to be charming.

"About Miss Evershed?"

"Yes," Harry said. "She wants to go home."

"No, I can't allow that," he said instantly. "She's been through an amazing trauma, and even if she were allowed to go home, she'd need round the clock care, because she can't look after herself. She won't be able to walk or do any of the thins she used to do. And things like that need time to be arranged. Even without that, her internal injuries were very serious. I would not be comfortable letting her leave."

"But she could leave," Harry said, pressing the point. "Don't you have those discharge against medical advice cases?"

"Mr Pearce, my main priority is having Ruth healthy," doctor Grey said, clearly exasperated. "Is that not yours?"

"I have several priorities right now," Harry said, thinking of his children and his rapidly sinking career as well as Ruth. "But my priority is to keep Ruth alive."

"You don't think she's safe here?" The doctor did take Harry's worries seriously, as he'd had to sign the official secrets act. He'd read it closely, and had had to admit to himself that this man might just be telling the truth.

"I have a technological genius who works for me," Harry said. "No one can break into my house after he upgraded the security system. I'm having it done to Ruth's now."

"Right," the doctor replied. "And you think she's in danger here."

"I've taken precautions, but it is a public hospital," Harry said. "Anyone could get in. And that concerns me."

"I want her in overnight," the doctor said. Harry looked at his watch and realised it was only two in the afternoon. God, how was the day ticking by so slowly? "If her stats are still in good condition, she's eating well, and still wants to go home, then I'll sign her discharge orders. But not before. And I want to see her every couple of days, and I think it would be a great idea for her to have a full time nurse. With injuries like hers, she's going to be sore, tired, and pretty soon frustrated. And I understand you'll be working?"

"I'll look into a nurse," he said. He could only imagine how badly that suggestion was going to go down with Ruth. She liked to do things on her own, and she liked her own independence. "Thank you," Harry said sincerely. "Thank you for your understanding." Both men nodded, and were interrupted by Harry's phone ringing. He excused himself to answer it and saw Malcolm's name there.

"We've found her," Malcolm said. "The French woman who threatened Ruth."

"Go on," Harry said.

"Well, the CCTV wasn't altered, and we managed to get a good look at her face and run it through facial recognition.

"And?"

"It's bad. Marie-Elise Daquise," Malcolm said. "Born in Paris, with a French father, German mother. Fifty two, ended up working as a language specialist at…"

"The DGSE," Harry said, finishing it for him. The French equivalent of MI5. "Oh wonderful."

"You know her?" It wasn't a question, and Harry knew it.

"I've met Marie a time or two," Harry said, his voice reduced to a dangerous growl. "She was brilliant. The best language expert the French ever acquired. She spent her life travelling and she had such a gift for learning new languages. And how is she entwined with Charles Thomas?"

"It seems that he started writing to her in his last year in prison," Malcolm said. "I don't know why her, and I don't have the content of those letters either, but I doubt it was anything good, especially with what's happened yesterday. They must have known each other before Thomas was sent to prison."

"I agree," Harry said.

"I hate to be impertinent," Malcolm said. "But considering Thomas is trying to ruin you, and targeting you by hurting Ruth… did you ever… Was Marie-Elise more than…"

"Thank you Malcolm, for putting such a fine point on it," Harry said sarcastically. "No. Myself and Marie were only ever friends and professional acquaintances." This was almost true. They had had a brief rendezvous years before. Once. They'd both known it was nothing more than sex, and a relationship simply wouldn't happen. From long and bitter experience, they'd both known a relationship was a bad idea. To get involved with anyone at all who worked for a different nationalities security service. Hell, most of the time it was a terrible idea becoming involved with someone who worked for the same one.

Complicating it was unnecessary. So it had been a one off occasion. He'd not seen her since, although great things were spoken about her over in Paris still.

"Well, she quit her job six months ago," Malcolm was saying as Harry dragged his head out of the past.

"Why?" Harry asked. "She was brilliant and overpaid. Why would she quit?"

"I have a shrewd guess," Malcolm said. "To come here. As far as the French know, she's still in a small village on the outskirts of Cannes. Her retirement property. Now, we know that she threatened Ruth last night, so she has to be here. But her passport hasn't left France, so she's travelling under a legend. She has to be. I'm looking for the legend, but I have six months of CCTV footage and lists of foreign nationals in the UK to go through, including all the airports, the Eurostar and the ferries. Because we don't know when or how she got here."

"Try narrowing it down," Harry suggested. "look for names with Alex in them somewhere." Harry knew that she liked this, and it was a bad trait which she couldn't break. It made her easy to track down, and yet she still did it.

"Why?" Malcolm asked.

"Her daughter died. She was called Alexis. Marie liked to use it in her legends. It's a habit she hasn't broken. Well, I hope she hasn't."

"It'll still take hours though. It's a lot to go through."

"Yeah, I know," Harry said. "I should come in shouldn't I?"

"How's Ruth?" Harry sighed. What that really meant was, is Ruth going to be okay if you leave her alone?

"I'll come in."

"And Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Not to add on to your problems, but the DG wants to meet you."

"When?"

"Tonight, at six," Malcolm said. That sentence meant more than just a time query. If the DG wanted to meet you after five in the afternoon, it usually meant you were sacked. He seemed to like it, because then the redundant man or woman in question didn't have to walk past a room full of people. It tended to lead to uncomfortable scenes.

"Where?"

"Your office," Malcolm said. "I told him you might not be there, because of personal reasons, but…"

"Great," Harry said. "I'll be there," he grumbled. "Thanks."

* * *

**More soon, and a massive thank you to those who left reviews :)**


	10. Chapter 10

"They can't sack you!" Ruth said indignantly. "For what?!"

"The scapegoat?" he suggested. "Ruth, I am less concerned about my career or my job, than I am about catching this man."

"But what are you going to do?" she asked. "If you are… fired?"

"I'm going to concentrate on getting you back to full health, and then I'm going to wine and dine you, until you can't resist me." She smiled, a weak half hearted smile at him.

"Not that I object to that," she started. "But would you be happy like that? To have no job, no responsibilities and to just be… with me? For a man who's used to the weight of the world on his shoulders, wouldn't that be a little... unfulfilling?"

"What I'd do is watch cricket," he said, a small smile on his face. "I haven't watched a five day test match in… thirty years," he said. "I've always been busy. I'd love to sit and watch an ashes test match."

"Oh good," she said. "I'd lose you to twenty two men every week." The smile on her face let him know she was joking, and he had to admit to being rather pleased. That she saw a future for them together. It was nice to know. Harry looked at his watch and sighed. He had to go soon. For his appointment with death.

"You're going to be discharged tomorrow," he told her.

"So soon?"

"Yes," Harry said. "I was… rather insistent. I've had Malcolm upgrade your security, and…" he was reluctant to say the next bit.

"And?" she prompted.

"And I've hired a nurse, please don't be upset."

"Why?" she asked, completely exasperated.

"Because you can't move on your own, you can't walk, you've had surgery, you've been hit by a car and a madman wants to kill you."

"Well," she said quietly. "When you put it like that." He kissed her brow lightly.

"It was the only way you could go home. And I think you would be… happier at home."

"I would," she agreed fervently. He smiled and kissed her. He'd intended it to be light, but it wasn't. It was deep, delicious and powerful. Ruth took a shuddering breath when they parted, her left hand around his neck. "Right now, you have no idea how much I want to be able to use both my arms. To pull you close to me."

"On the to do list," he said, with a cheeky grin. "I have to go."

"Good luck," she said fervently. He nodded in appreciation and left, closing the door behind him. Ruth looked at the cast on her right arm with disdain. God, she wanted to be able to move. She could mover her fingers, just showing out of the edge of the cast, but it was highly annoying to have such limited mobility.

Also in the distant part of her mind, she was very aware of the fact that she and Harry couldn't really be intimate until she'd healed. They'd waited a long time already, and she didn't really want to wait anymore. It was the enforced nature of it that she hated. For the past few years, the fact that her relationship with Harry had never become physical was their own choice. Now, she had no option. They had to wait, and it was infuriating.

* * *

Harry sat behind his desk, poured a whisky and waited. The DG was rarely late, and sure enough, six o'clock was announced by a knock on his door. "Yes?"

The door opened and the Director General of MI5 stood there. "Would you like a whisky?" he asked.

"No thank you," he replied. "Harry, I'm sure you're aware of what's being said."

"Gossip?"

"No," The DG sighed, and sat down. "I hate to do this to you Harry, and I don't want to but I'm being put under pressure by Downing Street and the Home Office."

"They need someone to blame," Harry said simply.

"It's not just that," the DG said. "It's… Harry, you have no idea where Charles Thomas is. No one has seen a sniff of him since he blew up Big Ben. It would be different if you were on his trail, and had him within your reach, but you don't. He could be in any rat hole in the country by now." Harry would have dearly loved to disagree with him, but he couldn't. It was true. Thomas could have buried his way to China by now. Dimitri, Lucas, Beth and everyone else had been trying to look for him

"I've managed to persuade people that you are a good officer," the DG said. "We're only going to suspend you. And with full pay until this matter is resolved."

"Until Thomas is caught," Harry edited.

"Well, as you say," the DG replied. "You are an officer of outstanding repute, your record stands for itself. And whatever happens, I will make sure you get the pension you deserve and you've earned."

"Thank you for that," Harry replied sincerely. "I know how this works, so I appreciate that." There was a long silence, only broken by Harry taking a sip of whisky.

"How is Ruth Evershed?"

"She'll be all right," he said.

"Normally I would escort you out of the building," the DG said. "I assume that need not be necessary."

"No," Harry said with a smile. "Thank you."

"I will do everything I can for you Harry."

"Okay," Harry replied. "In the meantime, I have to go." The DG nodded, stood and left, clearly being uncomfortable being in this situation. Especially as Harry could probably have had his job, had he wanted it. When he was alone, Harry unlocked his safe, and retrieved two objects. One was an incredibly rare bottle of malt whisky, unopened. He'd been saving it for his retirement, but there was a chance he'd never return to this office, so he wanted it with him.

The other object was a small velvet box, with an engagement ring inside. For Ruth. He'd bought it years ago, when she'd been in exile. Which had either been foolish and stupid, or incredibly optimistic. But he'd seen it and thought of her. And he'd bought it. He hadn't planned to propose to Ruth at Ros's funeral, so it had still been in his safe. He hadn't looked at it since she'd turned him down, but now he did. Still perfect. Simple. A gold band with a single diamond on it. But beautiful. He thought it was a perfect fit for Ruth, and somehow even in the shop window, he hadn't been able to look at it without thinking of her. Maybe one day she'd wear it.

Yes. One day maybe.

* * *

**More soon.**


	11. Chapter 11

Ruth awoke to a wonderful feeling. Harry's hand wrapped around hers. She moved her fingers gently against his touch and smiled, before she opened her eyes. He was sleeping in what had to be the most uncomfortable position imaginable. He sat in the chair next to her bed, his chin was on his chest and his hand holding hers. He looked so awkward that it warmed her heart to think he'd spent all night like this. Though his neck would be aching today, she knew it would be. She squeezed his hand and he stirred a little, but not enough to wake. He must be tired, she thought with fondness.

While he was sleeping, she took the time to study his face. His wonderfully familiar face, which for the present didn't have hazel eyes boring into her skull. She never had the leisure to appreciate him like this. Every line on the face she loved so much. She would have kissed him awake, but she couldn't move enough to manage it. It would have meant letting go of his hand, which might have woken him anyway.

"Harry."

"Mm?"

"Hi," she said as he blearily opened his eyes.

"Hi," he replied. "You were sleeping when I got here."

"So you stayed all night?" she asked. "Is your bed at home that uncomfortable?"

"It doesn't have you in it," he said, before thinking about it. "I meant… I didn't mean."

"Forget it," she said with a smile. "I knew what you meant." She sighed. "Do I want to know how it went with the DG?"

"Suspended on full pay," he said. "It could have been worse."

She sighed heavily, but he was right. It could have been a lot worse. "And where's Charles Thomas?"

"I have no idea," Harry said. "We can't find him." This statement was followed by the uncomfortable thought that maybe before they did find Charles Thomas, he would find them. That was not an uplifting thought.

Harry didn't get further in his thoughts because the door opened, and Doctor Grey came in with a clipboard and a grim look on his face. "So I understand you want to be discharged?"

"I'd like to go home," Ruth said. "I really would." She said it so fervently that the doctor smiled.

"Hmm," he said. "If anything feels wrong, tell your nurse. Don't be stoic, or worry about being a pain, we need to know. Because I am highly sceptical about letting you go home in the first place. But your husband makes a persuasive argument."

"Oh. I'm not…" Harry started, wanting to correct him about the "husband" assumption. Ruth quietened him simply by putting her hand on his thigh. That was more than enough to distract him from speech.

"I'll be well looked after," Ruth said, smiling sweetly.

"Mm," he said. "I have a prescription here, for her medication. I'd like you to fill it out now so I know she's got her medication when she needs it." Harry took the slip of paper and nodded.

"I'll be back in five minutes," he said, before kissing Ruth soundly. She smiled as he left, her eyes twinkling. Ruth looked at the doctor.

"Why did you want to get rid of him?"

"I wanted to talk to you when he wasn't here. But he seems to guard your bedside."

"He's worried about me," Ruth said.

"Do you want to go home?" he asked simply.

"Yes," she said fervently. "I'm going to be on bed rest anyway, does it matter where I do my bed rest?"

"I suppose not," he agreed. "How are you feeling?"

Honestly, Ruth was feeling taken care of by Harry, and that was something she had never felt before. So she was feeling happy with a deep glow of warmth inside her, in spite of the fact that Charles Thomas was on the loose and she had several broken bones. "I feel… tired," she settled on. That was true enough. "And thirsty." That was true too. The doctor smiled, poured her a glass of water as she hadn't been able to reach the jug, and she nodded her thanks.

"You know, I don't know if you're lucky to have him, or he's dangerously over protective of you," the doctor said.

"I'm lucky," Ruth said with confidence. "He… we have a difficult job. And we deal with death almost everyday. So it's hard for him to see me like this. And he worries, which isn't a good combination. He's seen too much."

Ruth closed her eyes for a moment, thinking of Harry. She ended up smiling. "All right," the doctor told her. He signed her discharge forms and smiled at her. "Take care of yourself."

"I intend to," she said. "I'll see you for my check up?" He nodded. "Great."

* * *

Ruth felt only mildly embarrassed with the fact that she had to be put in a wheelchair to get home. She was too tired to be too upset, but it still felt awkward. "You're quiet," Harry said in the car journey, on the way home.

"I'm tired," she said.

"Not wishing you were back in hospital?" he asked shrewdly.

"No. Just… tired." At that moment she stifled a yawn, which made her point for him.

"I want to stay with you," he said. "I mean, as much as I can what with… everything," he finished, not wanting to say Charles Thomas's name.

"I'd like that," she said. "I enjoy your company. And I sort of like that you want to take care of me. It feels nice." She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

At her flat, she got out of the car with difficulty, hoping into her wheelchair, Harry with a supporting arm around her waist. She tried not to think that this was the first time he'd ever touched her that closely. It rather ruined it. They went up in the lift and then Harry unlocked the door of her flat, and wheeled her in. Ruth suddenly felt grateful that her flat was small. There would be no stairs to contend with. "Do you need any painkillers?"

"No," she said. "But a good cup of tea would be nice. Hospital tea just isn't what it should be."

"Coming right up." He bent down to kiss her and she smiled into the embrace. Her hand rose and stroked his cheek gently.

"You haven't shaved," she said quietly.

"Er, no," he agreed. "Didn't quite find the time. Sorry."

"No, I like it," she said quietly, her fingers stroking his face. "Mm," she said without even realising it. Then she drew her hand away, blushing. "Sorry."

"No, don't be," he said, a boyish grin on his face as he went through to the kitchen and filled the kettle. He was still smiling as it boiled, and he made their tea. Suddenly his phone buzzed with a text message. It was from an unknown number and he read it quickly.

_Midday. At the old place. For old times sake. I'm sorry._

This wasn't exactly a reassuring message, but he knew exactly what it meant. And Ruth frowned as she looked at him, the lightness suddenly gone from him. "What is it?"

"I have to go," he said. "I have to meet someone with… possible information."

"What? But you're suspended."

"I know," he said. "This is… Well. Even though I'm not on the grid, I'm still trying to track down Charles Thomas. This could help. I have to go. I have Tariq and Dimitri watching over the house, you'll be perfectly safe."

"Oh God Harry," she said quietly. "Promise me you'll be careful."

"I will," he said. "I'll set the alarm, you'll be safe. Do you want any help before I go?"

"Yeah," she said. "I want to lie down. Can you…?" she hated asking, but she knew she couldn't manage on her own. He nodded, and in silence, helped her to her own bed. She was sort of dressed, in odd clothing with holes cut out for her casts, but she didn't care. The day suddenly seemed too much for her, and she needed to sleep. Her eyes closed, and she was dozing before Harry had even left.

* * *

**More soon, and a massive thank you for the reviews and enthusiasm so far.**


	12. Chapter 12

Harry saw her before she saw him. She was leaning over a wall, looking out on the Thames. Marie-Elise Daquise. He walked towards her and knew he'd hear her steps. She was too good at her job not to. "They changed it," she said, her accent just audible over her fluent English. "What happened to the pub?"

"It closed down," Harry said. She turned to look at him, and he remembered everything about her. She was still as she had been twelve years ago, when he'd last seen her. The sheen on her blonde hair was slowly fading into grey, but otherwise she was just as she always had been. So vibrant and alive. Marie smiled at him, she couldn't help it.

"It is so good to see you Harry."

"It is," he agreed, surprising himself at the truth of those words. "I wish it were under better circumstances."

"I know you're angry with me," Marie said. "I would never have hurt her. The gun, it was empty, I wasn't going to shoot her, no matter what happened."

"Now I know that it was you who threatened her, I actually believe that," Harry said, standing next to her and folding his arms on the wall and watching the river flow by. "But that doesn't excuse it, Ruth was terrified. She's been through so much, and she didn't deserve it." Harry sighed, but Marie gave no apology. Not that he expected her to. "Marie, what have you gotten yourself into? And why on earth did you leave your job?"

"You've been looking into me?" she asked. "Ah, of course you have. I didn't leave, I was pushed."

"That's not what I found out. You weren't sacked."

"Well, no," Marie said. "But that's because I chose to leave with dignity. A teenager came along who was young, beautiful, pretty and could do the same job as me for half the price. If I hadn't left, I'd have been sacked. I wanted to leave with an ounce of grace. And it's nice to be spoken about as the best there ever was. If I'd have stayed, I'd have been told I was "losing my touch." I couldn't have that."

"Ah," Harry said. "That must hurt, being ousted for a glamorous counterpart."

"Harry, don't be cruel," she said. "I'm getting old, and I know it. Though you…. you still look the same as the last time I saw you."

"And you're being kind," he said. "I have more lines and many more worries than I ever did back then."

"Speaking of more glamorous counterparts…" Marie started.

"Don't say it," Harry replied, but his voice was light. Marie Elise always did this to him. Made him forget how serious things were and become involved in some light hearted verbal sparring. He enjoyed it, and he knew it, but somehow that didn't help him break the pattern.

"Why are you with that Ruth creature? She's so plain and dowdy… and so very English."

"I'm very English," Harry countered. "And Ruth is… she's Ruth," he finished, because it was true, and he didn't feel like explaining her many finer points with Marie.

"She's too plain for you," Marie said. Not in a tone of jealousy, just a simple statement of fact. "You're so passionate and immediate and alive, you need a woman who can match you."

"She does match me," Harry said quietly. "Why did you want to meet me?" he asked, bringing it back to the subject in hand.

"To apologise," she said. "I needed money. I've…" she sighed. "It's distasteful, but I gamble." She sighed and shook her head, looking disappointed with herself. "I've spent too much money. And with the fact that I had to leave my job… well, I needed more money than I make. I've been taking little jobs for petty criminals. I have marketable skills you see. Nothing serious, and nothing to implicate me, or have me taken back to Paris, but… I needed money."

"And Charles Thomas paid you?"

"It was one small favour," Marie said. "I had to deliver a note. No one would get hurt. It seemed simple. Then I realised you were involved." She sighed heavily. "And nothing with you involved is ever simple. I'm sorry Harry."

"How much did he pay you?"

"Enough," she said unhelpfully.

"When did you meet him? Originally, I mean."

"When he was in prison," she said. "And I'm not going into what happened Harry. That's private." He shrugged and waited for more. "But I do feel like I owe you something. I didn't mean to… well." She handed him another note.

"What is it?" he asked, handling it gingerly.

"It's where Charles Thomas wants to meet you," she said. "It's where he'll be in a weeks time. Don't go Harry. Please."

"Is there a reason I shouldn't go?"

"He wants to kill you," Marie said. "He wants to destroy you. If you go, you will simply be playing into his hands. Call the police, or back up, of whatever it is you have in this country. Do not go on your own."

"But the police, they'll take him into custody. They won't kill him."

"Is that what you want? Thomas dead?"

"Yes," Harry said. "Apart from what he did to Ruth, he's a dangerous man. He's bombed the city I love, changed the landscape, and I hardly think the general public would want him alive and on our streets, able to bomb again."

"Well, you have the information," Marie said, nodding at the envelope. "Do what you will with it."

"Thank you," he said reluctantly. "Don't get involved with anything stupid again."

"Well, you know me," she said. "I always did live on the edge."

"Marie, this was foolish."

"Yes," she said easily. "It was."

"I'm never going to see you again am I?"

"No," she said. "I'm going back to France. And I'm going to stay there. And you won't leave here. Even years ago I knew that. You are British to the very bone Harry Pearce."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," he said with a smile.

Marie chuckled. "It is a compliment. You know, you remind me of that poem."

"What poem?"

"That Rupert Brooke one. If I should die, think only this of me," she quoted. "That there is some corner of a foreign field that is forever England."

"Ah," he said.

"You spent some time in MI6, a long time ago. And that poem always did remind me of you Harry. Nothing on this beautiful earth would make you turn away from your homeland. I envy that steadfastness sometimes."

She kissed his cheek, much to his surprise. "Goodbye Harry." She turned and walked away, her heels clicking on the street. He watched her leave, and then turned to look at the river again.

"Oh Marie. You stupid woman."

* * *

**So I tried to write Harry hating Marie, but it just didn't work out that way. Hope it's not too unbelievable. Thank you for the great reviews. More soon.**


	13. Chapter 13

Harry found Ruth sleeping in her bed, looking very comfortable. She heard him come in, and she stirred slowly. "I didn't mean to wake you," he said. "Honestly. Sorry."

"That's okay," she said. "Can you get me a drink please? And my pain killers?"

"Yes of course," he said, quickly leaving the room to get them for her. When he came back and she'd taken her pills she asked him, "so, why did you have to rush off so quickly?"

"Someone wanted to meet me."

"Who?"

"Marie Elise Daquise."

"And she is?"

"The woman who threatened you in hospital."

"You know who she is?" Ruth asked. She hated not being able to be involved in the investigation. "And you went and met up with her?"

"I know her," Harry said quietly. "From a while back. She used to work for the DGSE in Paris."

"You knew her?" Ruth asked. "Or you… _knew _her?" Her voice was heavy with emphasis and Harry flinched as if he'd been slapped. He knew perfectly well what Ruth was asking him.

"Yes, all right," he said with a heavy sigh. "I slept with her ten years ago. More actually," he said. "Can you save your condemnation?"

"Sorry," she said, genuinely reproachful. "I didn't mean anything. It's none of my business anyway. Your sexual past."

Harry paused for a moment, taking this in. He shook his head, trying to clear the images that had been evoked by Ruth simply saying "sexual." "Anyway, she's the one who threatened you."

"Why did you meet her?"

"Because it was Marie. She wouldn't hurt me."

"And yet this is the woman who held a gun to my head?!" Ruth said. "But she wouldn't hurt you!"

"She wasn't going to hurt you," Harry said simply. "The gun wasn't loaded."

"Oh, I'm reassured now!" Ruth said, incredibly angry. "So she could have shot me, but you meet her like everything's fine! I can't…" Ruth suddenly gasped for breath, and she looked in pain. "I can't… breathe…"

"Calm down," he said, genuinely worried. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "Breathe slowly." She did, even though it was painful, and she tried to forget her anger towards Harry. Soon enough the pain subsided and she collapsed as if worn out.

"Go on," she said.

"Are you sure? I don't want to…"

"Harry, tell me," she said simply and firmly. He nodded, knowing he had no other choice.

"I met her because I had to, to get information," Harry said. "I hate the fact that she threatened you, but in a way, I'm relieved it was her. She wouldn't have hurt you. She used to work for the DGSE."

"And the French are so honourable," Ruth said sarcastically.

"Just breathe," he said. She took his advice. "Marie works and lives by her own rules. I believe she wouldn't have hurt you, maybe that is me being a complete fool, but I'm glad that Thomas didn't send in someone who could have really harmed you."

"What's she doing working for him?" Ruth asked. "If she used to work for the DGSE?"

"She's in debt," Harry said simply. "She needed money."

"Is it that simple?"

"I think, that with her, it is," Harry said. "But just to cover all bases, I've called Malcolm so he can delve into her recent history."

"I thought you weren't allowed access to anyone on the grid," Ruth said. "What with your suspension." Harry simply looked at her, a smile playing on the edge of his lips. "Oh, I see," she said, smiling back. "You don't play by petty rules like that."

"No, I don't," he replied. "Malcolm will do what I want. He's a friend. A good one too."

"I know," Ruth said smiling. "Good old Malcolm. So what information did you get?"

"Charles's location in a weeks time," Harry said. He handed her the envelope and she read it.

_Saturday. 10pm 15 Addle street._

"Is this her handwriting?" Ruth asked. Harry nodded. "Is she helping you, or is she setting you up?"

"I have no idea," Harry said. "Believe me, both possibilities have occurred to me. I'm inclined to trust her though."

"What's at the address?"

"An abandoned warehouse," Harry said. "Lucas has had a look at it, and wherever Charles Thomas is now, he isn't there."

"But he's in London," Ruth said. "Isn't he?"

"I think he probably is, yeah," Harry agreed with her, albeit reluctantly.

"Great," she said. "Are you going to go?"

"I can't not go," Harry said. "But I'll be wearing a bullet proof vest, a wire and I'll have back up with me."

"Real back up?" she asked. "Or just men who are loyal to you, and won't mention it if Charles Thomas happens to appear to the police as a corpse?"

"Well," he said, shifting. "I'm not sure yet. I just…" he sighed. "He's evil."

"I know that much," Ruth said. She sighed very heavily and closed her eyes for a moment. "You know what, I don't want to talk about him any more," she said. "Get into bed with me."

"You… what?" Harry blurted in shock.

"Get into bed with me," she repeated. So no, he wasn't hearing things. "I'm sore, tired and I'd… quite like you to touch me and hold me," she admitted. Harry wasn't a man to turn down an opportunity when it presented itself, so he lay on top of the covers, turned his body towards her and stroked her hair softly, earning a tiny smile from her. She tried to shift nearer to him, but was somewhat limited in her mobility and she grimaced with frustration. Harry moved so he could kiss her and she moaned quietly. Her good hand rose up and tangled in his hair and he very carefully wrapped an arm around her waist. He was very aware of the fact that she'd recently had surgery, so her stomach had to be sore, but she didn't pull away. In fact, the opposite.

Her lips were so wonderfully soft that he never wanted to stop this. He could kiss her forever. "I need to breathe," she whispered against his mouth. He pulled away instantly. She took a few deep breaths, then caught his lips again, in a soft press of flesh. They went on in this manner of sharing deliciously thrilling kisses for some time. Until Ruth yawned.

"Oh, how attractive," she said.

"Tired?" Harry asked, unnecessarily.

"Yes," she said. "I seem to be so tired these days."

"You've had surgery," he said kindly. "You're healing. It's to be expected."

"Okay," she said. "Thanks. By the way, what happened to that nurse who was supposed to be here?"

"I… er… " Harry said, looking uncomfortable. "The first one failed the vetting and I… left it at that. I thought… as long as you're comfortable with it, I could look after you. Is that okay?"

She smiled, her eyes glinting with happiness. "That's okay," she agreed. "I like that you want to take care of me." They both smiled, and then she closed her eyes and was breathing deeply within moments. Harry watched as a strand of hair fluttered over her face with her even breathing. He tucked it behind her ear and smiled. She was so beautiful in an understated way. Marie was right in one thing. Ruth was very English. An English rose. She wasn't a foreign or exotic beauty, but she was beautiful, intelligent and complicated in her own specific way. He loved that about her. He also loved that for so many years both himself and her had fought on the same side. There had been no conflict of interest, and she had always supported him, even through the difficult decisions.

"I love you Ruth," he said. He'd never spoken it aloud before, and it was somehow freeing to do it now, when she was sleeping. She wasn't required to respond, and he didn't expect to hear anything either. It was wonderful to tell her though. Simply for the pleasure of saying it.

* * *

**More soon, and thank you for the reviews so far, they really mean a lot to me.**


	14. Chapter 14

Ruth awoke to the sound of rain hammering on the window. She was alone in bed and dearly hoped she hadn't dreamed Harry being in bed with her. Lying next to her, kissing her and holding her so carefully and lovingly. It was truly wonderful, but it did have an ethereal dreamlike quality to it. She just hoped it had been real.

She needed to move. With her good side, she managed after a few minutes wriggling to sit up, then she saw her wheelchair. It looked far too far away, at the end of the bed.

"Harry?" she called quietly. She didn't want to disturb him simply because she was immobile and couldn't get to her wheelchair. She did have a little bit of pride. She managed somehow to hop to her chair, and by the time she sat down she was utterly exhausted. For five minutes she simply sat and breathed, hating how something so simple could exhaust her so much. When she felt recovered, she rolled her wheelchair with some effort into the kitchen and saw Harry on the phone. He looked at her, and she knew he was thinking how had she managed to get into the chair by herself.

"Yes, of course I'm listening sweetheart," he said. "And it isn't that I don't want you home. Of course I want you back in London where it's safe."

"It doesn't look safe dad." Ruth heard Catherine's voice clearly. "Big Ben?"

"Yeah, they're already talking about rebuilding it," Harry said.

"They are?" Ruth asked blankly. Harry nodded to her, and continued his conversation. Ruth didn't listen. She stood up on her one working leg as Harry watched her, incredibly wary. After she'd gained her balance, she flicked the kettle on, grabbed two mugs, two teabags and a teaspoon, thankful that everything was within easy reach.

"Stop watching me like a hawk, I'm not going to break," she said with clear irritation.

"You're…" he started, then clearly remembered he was on the phone to his daughter. "Great," Harry said. "Of course. Yes, just let me know. I love you."

That was it. I love you, said in Harry's gently tone. She'd heard those words before, and recently. She knew she had. Was he… at the time, had he been referring to her? Oh, she hoped so dearly, but she couldn't remember. It was all fuzzy. It was as if it were just drifting outside the limits of her conscious thought.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Harry asked, pouring hot water over the teabags.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked him, repeating his question.

"Because you're standing on one leg, and I'm worried you're going to topple over," he said. "Now, your turn."

"I feel like I have this memory of you," she said. "Or half a memory, because I can't quite grasp it. It's like I can touch it, but I can't see it clearly."

"Oh," he said. "Sit down and think."

"In that order?"

"Yes," he said. To please him, she sat. But no, the memory wasn't coming to her. "Do you want anything to eat?" he asked. "I'll cook."

"Have I got any bacon in the fridge?" she asked. "A good old bacon sandwich sounds like heaven."

"Yes," he said. He hadn't even looked, and she raised her eyebrow at him. "I went shopping," he said. "After my meet with Marie when you were still sleeping. I thought some food would be helpful."

"You can be an incredibly sweet man," she said.

"I can also be a stubborn pain in the arse," he said.

"True, but I'm going to take what I can get," she said. "Bacon would be… perfect, thank you."

* * *

Ruth managed to get undressed by herself, much to her relief. As much as she wanted Harry to touch her, it would have been embarrassing for both of them if he had been touching her because he had to, rather than touching her because he desired her or wanted her. Ruth had a brief look at the surgical scar spanning across the right side of her stomach. It was angry, red and didn't look at all attractive. What would Harry think?

"Oh don't be stupid," she told herself. "Be glad that you're alive, don't wonder what a man would think." She let her hand drift over it and looked at herself in the full length mirror. God, she really was a mess. Why on earth would Harry want her? Her entire right side had lost it's function, even temporarily and she couldn't even walk, never mind being sexually attractive. Before she knew it, tears were rolling down her cheeks, and she was silently crying. She knew it was stupid, and yet she couldn't stop. Eventually her sobbing became noisy, and Harry knocked on the bathroom door, hearing her crying.

"Ruth, what's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said, attempting to stop crying and wipe her face dry at the same time. "Don't come in, I'm not dressed."

"Okay," he said, standing outside the door. "Can you come out though. I want to make sure you're all right."

"And I'm not capable of determining that?" she asked. The fact that she was crying made her voice come out in a squeak, which didn't exactly help her case. "Hang on," she said. She managed to wriggle into a nightdress, pleased that the break on her arm hadn't been too severe, so that she could still pass the cast through the arm holes on her clothing, and then she sat back down in her wheelchair which she was already beginning to hate.

Harry looked at her, bended down so he was at her level which, if possible, made her feel even smaller and more pathetic than she had before. "Why are you crying?" he asked.

"It's stupid," she said. "I know it's stupid. I'm just… overtired and my pain killers have worn off, that's all." She didn't want to talk about it, that much was clear to Harry, and he let it drop. She would confide in him when she was ready, and that was all there was to it. He kissed her brow delicately before standing up. He looked at the bed and frowned. "Are you sure you want me to sleep with you tonight?"

There was no innuendo in his tone, even though there was in his words, but she was too tired to play on it anyway. "It'll make me feel safe," she said. "So, if you don't mind, yes please."

"Of course I don't mind," he said. Inside his heart was thumping rather hard in his chest. He prayed his body wouldn't react to sleeping in the same bed as her, because now was so obviously not the time. With an arm around her waist, he helped her get into bed and she sighed with tiredness. It seemed like a long day.

Harry got into bed, wearing only his shirt and his boxers. If it had been under normal circumstances, she'd have been very interested to watch him, but as it was she could barely keep her eyes open. "Goodnight Ruth," he said, voice low and almost seductive.

"Night," she said, laying on her good side, so she faced him. She was asleep within seconds. Harry wasn't. This was a serious test of his self control, to be so close to naked skin. So he ended up sleeping very fitfully.

At one point in the middle of the night he awoke with a slight jerk. He opened his eyes and found Ruth watching him, her eyes bright in the darkness. They hadn't closed the curtains, and the streetlights were very softly illuminating the room, so he could see her expression. He just couldn't quite define it. Then he suddenly realised that his right hand was cradling her breast, and he'd had no idea. He must have moved in his sleep.

"You seemed to be having an interesting dream," she teased lightly.

He moved his hand away instantly, praying he hadn't been talking in his sleep. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to touch you, I was just…"

"Dreaming," she finished for him with a smile. "And don't apologise, it felt… nice. Mm… Good."

"Hmm?" he asked quietly and she nodded. Very slowly, he inched his hand towards her again, putting his palm where it had been in the first place. He felt her warm fullness and was annoyed by the material that stopped their skin from touching.

"Mm," she murmured as he touched her.

"Did I say anything in my sleep?" he asked.

"Just my name," she replied. "Nothing more." She left out the way he said it, which had made it clear that he'd been dreaming of them in an intimate way. It was a boost to her ego which had her smiling, but she didn't think Harry would appreciate it. He'd want to be conscious when he said that. Well, she hoped so anyway. He kissed her suddenly and she sighed into it with bliss. He always felt so good against her and she moaned as his thumb started to stroke her. She could feel her nipple hardening under his touch and she suddenly felt a hatred for her own immobility. If only she could move properly!

As quickly as the kiss started, he pulled away from her, and she blinked in bewilderment. "Harry?"

"I need a minute," he said, voice strained as he stared at the ceiling. She grinned, feeling pleased with herself for making him lose himself for a moment or two.

"What happened to your self control?" she asked, teasing him.

"It met you," he said. He took a deep shuddering breath and then rolled back to face her. "Go to sleep."

"Mm," she agreed quietly. "Are you going to sleep?"

"Probably not," he said. She laughed and kissed him briefly.

"Just close your eyes," she advised. He did, but it was a long while before he drifted off.

* * *

**More soon, and thank you massively for the reviews.**


	15. Chapter 15

Ruth awoke to someone shaking her shoulder. "Sod off," she said without opening her eyes.

"We have a doctors appointment this morning," Harry said. "To see how everything's going."

"Tell him that I'm fine, now go away and let me sleep." She was being petulant, and she knew it. Then she felt a kiss on her forehead, and she smiled. His lips softly traced down the contours of her face, until reaching her lips, giving her a deep kiss.

"Will that get you out of bed?"

"No, that's a way to get me into bed," she teased. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Help me up," she said. He nodded in agreement and did. "You didn't sleep well did you?" she asked, when sitting in her chair. He had dark smudges under his eyes which didn't go with a night of peaceful dreaming.

"No," he said. "I didn't."

"My fault?"

_Yes_, he said to himself. _In that you don't realise how devastatingly attractive you are and how much I'm struggling to keep my hands off of you._ _Yes, it is your fault._ But he shook his head. "I've spent most of my nights alone," he said. "I've got to get used to sharing a bed with someone else."

"Do I snore?" she asked lightly, eyes all innocence at him.

"No," he said.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't mean to tease you, and last night wasn't fair of me."

"You remember that?"

"Yes," she said. "I wasn't comatose, I remember."

"Ruth, don't worry about it," he said. "You can tease me as much as you want." She blushed at that, smiling at the same time.

"I'll remember that for future reference," she said. Her eyes twinkled at him with joy, and he bent to kiss her. He just couldn't resist.

"I want you," he whispered against her lips. "You have no idea how much I want you."

"You must be suffering from brain damage," she said tartly. "I can barely move, there is no way you can be attracted to me."

"You underestimate yourself," he said fervently. He leaned to whisper into her ear, low and seductive. "If you weren't injured, and recovering from surgery, I'd…" He sighed heavily.

"Something to look forward to," she said, blushing at him.

"Oh yes," he said. "Absolutely."

The conversation was turning very heavy very quickly, and Ruth felt like she was drowning in the undercurrents of the conversation, and she wanted things to come back to reality. "Any news on Charles Thomas?"

It was as if she'd chucked a bucket of water over the pair of them and their ardour. "Apart from that note, no. It's as if he's vanished in a puff of smoke."

"And the investigation into your suspension?"

"It's been postponed," Harry said quietly. "Until the culprit is caught, we have more information, or too much time has passed since the bombing that it becomes unreasonable to leave me hanging."

"Oh goodie," she said sarcastically. "Something to look forward to." This was said in a much darker tone than earlier.

"Exactly," he said. "Do you need help getting dressed?"

"Probably, but I'm going to attempt to do it by myself," she said. She'd very much like to avoid embarrassment. "Oh, actually…"

"Yes?"

"With my arm like it is… I can't… do up a bra," she said, going a crimson red. "It's not been an issue, because I've been in hospital gowns, and just around the house." She hadn't bothered struggling to put one on or the embarrassment of having to ask Harry for help, so she hadn't met this difficulty before. "But if I'm leaving the house, I think I should probably wear one. Is it…" she looked at his face and realised that he'd gone blank for a moment. "Forget it," she said. "I'll manage."

"No," he said. "I just segued into a dream…" he said. "Of course I will. And I'll try my best to keep my hands to myself."

"Thanks," she said. "Give me a minute." She wheeled herself into the bathroom as Harry stayed outside. He assumed she was covering herself up, and when she called to him to come in, he saw he wasn't wrong. She was standing on one leg, having slipped into one of her oversized skirts and her good arm was clutching a bra to her chest. She caught his eye in the mirror and they looked at each other in the silence for an indeterminable time. She couldn't look away from the intensity of his hazel eyes, and he couldn't tear his gaze off of the honesty in her blue ones. Eventually he cast his eyes down, and the spell was broken.

He walked towards her, his hands somehow not shaking as he reached for the clasp. A blue bra, he noticed absently. Almost as if someone else was doing this. As the clasp fastened, his fingers grazed across the skin of her back, sending chills down her spine. He'd finished what she had asked him to do, but he couldn't take his hands off of her. She was so beautiful, and her skin was so pale and white. Almost translucent. His hands softly went down her back until he reached her waist. It took a while, and the entire time Ruth was watching his face in the bathroom mirror. The concentration there was astounding and she moaned as he suddenly bent his head, and kissed her shoulder, where her bra strap was. His fingers moved over her shoulder, tracing the line of her collarbone as he kissed her behind her ear.

She moaned again and pressed her good hand against the sink so she could keep some of her balance. She didn't want this to stop, and she was determined not to make any movements that might make it all come to an end. Harry's fingertips had reached the hollow of her throat, his other hand resting on her hips and his eyes found her neck in the mirror. She watched him, watching her. His eyes were on her as if she were the most beautiful and treasured thing in the world. The fact that anyone could look at her that way astounded her.

His eyes slowly followed up the curve of her neck, still looking at her in the mirror as he stood behind her. She could see him, so slowly looking over her with such intensity, it made her want to blush or look away. She did neither. His eyes reached her lips, and he suddenly realised what he was doing. He shook his head and took half a step away from her. She felt his hands drift across her skin, and she knew it was ending.

"No don't," she said urgently, looking at him. "Please touch me. Harry, don't stop." He looked at her, and saw that she meant it. He lifted her hair, away from the back of her neck and planted a soft kiss there. She shivered with delight. She turned her face towards him, needing to see him. He kissed her neck again, getting closer to her jaw. She felt desire coiling up inside her, but ignored it. After all, she couldn't do much about it. He reached her ear, and delicately sucked her earlobe. She closed her eyes in pleasure, but otherwise didn't move.

He flicked his tongue over the rim of her ear, and she began to wonder how long she'd manage to remain standing on one foot if this continued. He planted soft gentle kisses, following a path to her eyelashes, where he kissed her closed eyelids. Then the tip of her nose, and finally her mouth. It was such a gentle kiss, filled with such love that she actually felt the prick of tears begin to well. She blinked them away, determined to enjoy this moment. He had an arm around her waist, and his fingertips were brushing her surgical scar, but oddly enough, she couldn't feel it. It didn't hurt at all. His other hand was stroking her face, her hair with such tenderness that her heart swelled with love for him. He parted from her and looked into he eyes. He stroked her hair, kissing her shoulder again, before he ended up behind her once more.

"Can I look at you?" he asked softly, his eyes catching hers in the mirror. She nodded once, and he smiled, a smile of desire and passion. He looked at her, his eyes drifting down her beautiful skin, until he reached her breasts. Beautiful and full. He couldn't help it, he simply had to touch her. He cupped her breasts, so warm with just lace covering her. Fumbling in the dark hadn't done her body any justice at all.

"I've got a few bruises," she said quietly. "From the crash."

"I haven't got that far," he admitted. He squeezed her breasts lightly and she made a noise somewhere in between a sigh, a moan and a cry. He kissed her neck, feeling her pulse beneath his lips. All he wanted to do was take her back to bed and ravish her completely. His body was screaming at him to do it, but he knew he couldn't. She was injured and recovering, of course he couldn't. He let one hand go lower, and look at the rest of her body.

She covered her surgical scar with her hand, but he wasn't having that. He grasped her wrist, and their eyes connected in the mirror. "Trust me Ruth," he said. "I'm not going to pull away." She lowered her hand with reluctance. He looked at her. It was bad, but he'd seen worse. Her right side had mottled blue and purple bruises showing vividly through her pale skin, and he swallowed.

"Does it hurt?"

"Yes," she said.

"Will it hurt if I touch you there?" he asked.

"No," she said. "Not if you're careful." He intended to be very careful. He feathered his fingers over the worst of it, and she sighed heavily. He looked at her, wondering if he should stop. She shook her head fractionally, as if reading his mind. "Don't stop." He nodded and let his thumb follow the line of her surgical scar. It was oddly small and innocuous, considering. He knew that she was showing tremendous trust in him, especially as she hadn't had any painkillers this morning. Gentle as he was trying to be, he was no doubt hurting her, and as the thought occurred to him, he dropped his hands.

"I'm being selfish," he said. "You've been standing on one foot for far too long." The moment was broken and Ruth sighed with disappointment. Until he'd pointed it out, she hadn't felt the slight ache in her left leg, from standing on it with all her weight for countless minutes. She sat down in her wheelchair and sighed with disappointment. She didn't want it to be over. But it was too late, and the sexual tension had vanished. Well, maybe not vanished, but dissipated somewhat. "I'll cook some breakfast while you finish getting dressed," he said, his voice amazingly steady in the circumstances.

"Okay, thanks," she said. She grabbed her shirt, and quickly pulled it on, suddenly feeling nervous with Harry when she was less than fully dressed. He smiled, then left, closing the bathroom door behind him. She sighed heavily, still feeling the echo of his touch on her breasts. He had talented fingers, that knew just how to touch a woman. How would it feel if he… "Stop it," she told herself, shaking her head to clear her mind of the vivid images currently flowing through her imagination. "Just stop it."

* * *

**More soon, and thank you for the reviews so far.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Again, please ignore all the medical stuff, I'm making it up.**

* * *

"Yes?" Harry asked, just having picked up the phone when it rang. Ruth had just wheeled her chair into the kitchen, following the smell of bacon. He saw her, and put the phone on speaker, so Ruth could hear as well.

"Harry," Malcolm said quickly, as he wasn't supposed to be speaking to his suspended colleague. "Marie Elise Daquise."

"Yes, I met with her briefly," Harry said. "What about her?"

"She's working with Charles Thomas," Malcolm said. "Not for him, _with_ him."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, feeling fear grip his heart.

"They're lovers," Malcolm said. "It seems like its been going on for an awfully long time. Before his arrest in 95 at the very least. And Charles Thomas had to be getting money from someone. It's her, I've followed the trail."

"But she said she met him while he was in prison. And that she was in debt."

"Well then, she lied to you Harry," Malcolm said briefly. "You clearly can't trust a word she says. What else did she tell you?"

"She gave me an address to meet Charles Thomas on Saturday," Harry said. "Tomorrow."

"Don't go," Malcolm said, at the same time Ruth said the same thing, looking at Harry with worry all over her face.

"I have to go," he said. "It'll be the only way of getting to both of them."

"It's a trap," Ruth said. "You can't go. They'll kill you." Harry looked at her, eyes on fire.

"Malcolm, is there anything else?"

"No," he said.

"Right, I'll call you back." Harry hung up and then looked at Ruth.

"They will kill you," Ruth repeated, her eyes wide with fear.

"No, they won't," Harry said. "Marie won't."

"Oh for God's sake Harry, open your eyes!" Ruth shouted. "Just because you slept with her doesn't mean you know her. Clearly not," she added. "If they have you on your own, with no support or back up, they will **kill** you," she said simply. "And I can't… I don't want to live in a world where you don't exist."

He looked at her and saw that she was very near tears. He suddenly felt guilty, for being so reckless with his own life. If the tables were turned, and it was she who was suggesting walking into a death trap, he certainly wouldn't be calm. "I'm sorry," he said. "I… I'm sorry." She nodded and brushed at her eyes. He reached down to hug her, and she let him, feeling the tears begin to well again. "Ruth, I have no intention of dying," he said quietly. "And more importantly, I have no intention of letting anyone hurt you either."

"I'm more worried about you," she said. "You're the one who would storm in without thinking it through, simply because you want to hurt Charles Thomas." He nodded, in that she had a fair point.

"I'll work something out," he said. "I promise." She nodded as he was plating up their long forgotten breakfasts, and Ruth felt her stomach growl. She was hungry, and she hadn't realised how much. She took the plate and smiled at him tightly.

"Thank you," she said, wolfing down her bacon sandwich.

* * *

"So how are you feeling?" her doctor asked after thoroughly checking her over.

"Okay," Ruth said. "A lot tired."

"That's to be expected," the doctor said. "You're on some very strong painkillers, which will be contributing to that. Any problems?"

"Apart from the fact I can't use half of my body?" she asked. He looked at her. "Sorry, I'm frustrated. But problems, no."

"Okay," he said, checking off a point on his chart. "How is your husband dealing with this?"

_Apart from running off into a den of vipers who want him dead tomorrow night, he's perfectly fine,_ she thought to herself. She had never corrected his assumption that Harry was her husband either, because for a brief moment, it was nice to hear. "He's fine," she said. "Great. Wonderful. Very… patient." _Probably more patient than I am._

"That's good," he said. "Now, I have to talk to you about something personal, would you prefer a female doctor?" Ruth frowned, confused and shook her head. He nodded and carried on. "Okay, are you on any birth control at all?"

"Oh. No," she said, things clicking into place rather slowly in her mind. "No I'm not."

"Well, I would strongly advise you to avoid pregnancy while you're recovering. It's a massive ordeal that your body has been through, and a foetus takes all of the nutrients it needs from its mother. Your bones might take twice as long to mend, as well as your body simply not being able to cope if you were expecting."

"Right," she said. "I understand. But I think it's irrelevant. Harry wouldn't want to sleep with me anyway. I'm a mess."

"I'm going to be bluntly honest with you Ruth. That man, wants to sleep with you, there is no doubt about it. I just have to look at him and I know how much he wants you." Ruth blushed pink, and he realised how unprofessional he'd been. "I apologise," he said. "I'm sorry, it's none of my business. That was... I'm sorry."

"Mm," she said, wishing the blush would fade.

"Would you like a prescription for the pill?" She thought about it. She and Harry hadn't slept together yet, but she desperately wanted to. What would it hurt, if she were being prepared?

"Yes please," she said. "Thank you."

* * *

**Thank you for the reviews so far. Next up, they finally find Charles Thomas.**


	17. Chapter 17

**The chapter I've been building up to. Enjoy.**

* * *

The next night, Ruth was frightened. Harry had left her without so much as a goodbye kiss, leaving to meet Charles Thomas. Bloody idiot. How could he go? How on earth could he meet those two lunatic terrorists? And she was more than a little pissed off that he'd left her without kissing her goodbye. He'd thought she was asleep, but even so. Sleep was far from her, because she was very, very frightened for Harry. She didn't want to lose him. She couldn't, not now they actually had a relationship. It would be beyond cruel.

Ruth heard a creak, and she opened her eyes, listening intently. But the alarm hadn't gone off. Was that good or bad? Maybe it was simply another flat nearby. She kept listening, but there were no other sounds, so she closed her eyes, waiting for Harry to come back. She was still alert, but heard nothing. Until she heard the cocking of a gun.

"Don't move." She opened her eyes, but otherwise stayed immobile. Charles Thomas had a gun aimed at her chest and she reminded herself that she had to keep breathing. Bloody Harry Pearce, she thought to herself. He was going to come home, and she'd be dead in a pool of blood. If she got out of this somehow, she'd kill him.

"Why?" she asked, trying to keep calm. "Why are you going to shoot me?"

"Revenge," he said. "Pure and simple. Harry Pearce loves you. I'm going to hurt him beyond description. I don't need to kill him to ruin him."

"Your wife died," Ruth said quietly. "I understand…"

"No you don't," he said firmly. "You don't understand a thing."

"Harry told me," she said, knowing she was pushing her luck. She had a feeling that Thomas wouldn't shoot her unless she annoyed him, or until Harry appeared. To do it in front of him had a sick kind of poetic justice. "He told me everything."

"Oh really?" he asked. "Did he tell you how he set me up? How I spent fifteen years in prison for a crime I never committed."

"Yes he did. But you were going to try though, weren't you?" she asked. She really was pushing it now, and she froze as she saw his grip tighten on the gun and his finger hover on the trigger.

"I was seeing if it was plausible," he admitted. "I… oh well, it doesn't matter now does it?"

"I suppose not," she agreed. "Big Ben? Why?"

"Because I just… wanted to see what it would look like," he said and Ruth suddenly realised she was dealing with someone who was completely irrational. "How the clock tower would fall and crumble. I just wanted to see it collapse. Not for any of these high ideals that other terrorists seem to have these days."

"Harry will kill you for this," Ruth said. "He won't rest until he has revenge."

"You seem awfully confident," Charles said. "You could just be another woman in his very long list of conquests."

"If you really believed that, why bother pushing me under a car in the first place?" she asked. He inclined his head in agreement.

"How long do you think Harry will wait for me at that warehouse?" Thomas asked. "I'd really like him here to see this. To see you die."

"He's already here." Thomas didn't lower the gun or lose his aim, but he turned to see Harry at the door, a gun pointing at Thomas's chest. "And if you hurt her, you will be dead before you draw breath."

"Ah Harry," he said, a psychotic grin on her face. "You came quickly."

"Did you really think I'd leave her unprotected?" Harry asked. "It was a bit too convenient, having me leave her alone to meet you. I only walked to the end of the street, and then I followed you."

"Why not kill me earlier then?" Thomas asked with a smile.

"Because I wasn't entirely sure you were Charles Thomas. I thought you might be a simple pedestrian. And I wouldn't shoot you without seeing your face."

"Then why not shoot me now?" Thomas asked.

"Because you're pointing a gun at Ruth," he said.

"So, we seem to have come to a stalling point," Thomas said. "You won't shoot me, because I'm threatening her. I can't shoot her, because you'll kill me if I do."

"That sums it up quite nicely," Harry said. "How did you turn Marie?"

"I didn't turn her," Charles said. "She's been… misused by everyone she's ever known in her life. At the last moment she was fired from a job she adored. And she was very angry. So I used her anger. She wanted to do… something. She didn't realise how serious I was until the clock tower fell though. She's not a bad person."

"No, I know that much," Harry agreed. "She'll have to be arrested you know. For collusion."

"Marie's tough," Thomas said. "If you catch her, and that's a big if, she'll survive prison. And the French will demand her back, with a reduced sentence. You know that."

Harry shrugged. Marie Elise's fate wasn't his main concern at the moment.

"How did you get past the alarm?"

"Marie gave me a little invention of hers," Charles said, a grin on his face as he was clearly pleased with himself. "It beat even your system. Clearly French security is above the British."

Harry ignored the slight. "You will be caught though Charles. You can't escape it now."

"What do you mean?"

"There's back up and CO19 outside. You won't return to freedom now." Harry looked at him and nodded towards the window. "Check if you don't believe me. You know how to see back up, even when they're hiding in the shadows."

"Why haven't they come in here then?"

"Because I command respect, and I've asked them not to," Harry said. "I don't want Ruth injured, and if there... if there's shots, that's a very likely possibility. And Marie is being tracked down as we speak."

"I'm going to prison aren't I?" Thomas said slowly, as the realisation came to him. "That's it isn't it?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Oh well," he said. "If I'm going to prison for terrorism, I might as well add murder to the list too." Gun still pointing directly at Ruth's heart, he pulled the trigger, as did Harry a moment later as Ruth moaned in pain. Thomas collapsed onto the floor, clearly dead as a pool of blood formed around him on the carpet.

Harry stepped over him to Ruth, and held her head gently. "You all right?"

"Yeah," she said breathlessly, a hand to her chest. There was a clear hole through the duvet where Thomas had shot her "It hurts to be shot though, bloody hell."

"The vest did the job then?" he asked with concern.

"Yeah," she said. "Nice to know that bullet proof jackets work as advertised. But that hurt," she added. "The force of the shot. I'm going to be bruised there." Harry ran his hands over her chest, just to check that she wasn't bleeding. "You know, if you want to feel me up, you only need to ask."

He laughed lightly. "You're really okay?"

"Yes," she said. "Apart from the fact I have a dead body on my carpet. And that was a hell of a bluff from you."

"It worked."

"There's no backup outside at all."

"No," he agreed. "Disgraced section heads don't get all the resources they want. But they're only a few minutes away, I promise." He was uncomfortably aware of the fact it might have been too late. He had put her in such danger and he wanted to kick himself over it.

"Speaking of, can we do something to get rid of the dead body on my bedroom floor?"

"Oh, yes," he said. "Sorry."

"Rather him than us," she said. Harry picked up his phone, and called through to Malcolm.

"Yes?"

"Charles Thomas is dead on Ruth's bedroom floor. Can I have someone to clean up this mess please?"

"Are you two okay?" Malcolm asked.

"Yes," Harry said. "Thanks." The conversation went on, but Ruth ignored it. It was only practical stuff, and she stopped listening. Her hand had found the bullet that Thomas had fired, aiming to kill her. She held it up and saw that it was flattened on one side, and she realised how close she'd come to death. God, she could have been killed, he could have taken a head shot, and then no amount of bullet proof vests would have saved her. It was a risk, which she'd agreed to, so they'd stop looking behind themselves every day, wondering in fear when he'd appear, but she'd been so careless! How could she have agreed?

"What if he'd shot me in the head?" she asked. "What then?"

"I didn't think he'd shoot you at all," he said darkly. "I thought I knew him, but I can't believe how cavalier I was. If he'd hurt you… if you'd…" he couldn't even say it. "I only suggested the vest as a precaution. I genuinely thought when he knew it was over, he'd give himself up. I'm so sorry."

Ruth blinked as suddenly the tears started. Harry looked at her and disconnected the call. He sat next to her on the bed and held her as she cried. She couldn't have explained, and he didn't need an explanation anyway.

* * *

**More soon.**


	18. M rated

**Okay, this chapter is M rated...**

* * *

Hours and hours later, Harry and Ruth found themselves at his house, a bag of her belongings in the back of his car. Ruth hadn't wanted to sleep in the same room that a man had died in, at least until her bedroom stopped smelling like blood and death. Ruth had been checked over by a medic, but had no more injuries than she'd had before Charles Thomas broke into her flat, and Harry had made a brief verbal report on the goings on. It had taken them until one in the morning to be free, and Ruth was exhausted.

"I have stairs," he said, apologetically as he parked the car outside his house.

"Mm?" she asked. She hadn't been paying him that much attention.

"I have stairs, which might be tricky for you, given…"

"Oh don't worry," she said. "Just give me a hand."

"Okay," he said. "Are you mad at me?" he asked. The quietness had different tone, and he wondered if it was more than the fact someone had shot her and tried to kill her.

"A little," she admitted, looking over to him. "When you were leaving, to draw Charles out. You didn't kiss me goodbye."

"I know," he said. He looked at her as if surprised by this. "I didn't want… I didn't want to kiss you, with part of us thinking it might be the last time. I wanted to know it wouldn't be the last kiss that I'd share with you." He sighed, not entirely sure he was explaining himself properly. "I refused to accept it would be the last time I kissed you, so I made sure it wasn't."

"By not kissing me at all," she said, seeing his point of view.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't do it to hurt you."

"Okay," she said. He leaned across the seat in the car, and captured her lips with his. His hand brushed through her hair as their tongues tangled in delight. She broke off and smiled at him. "I needed that," she said.

"Ruth..."

"Don't ever do that again," she said. "Don't ever leave me without kissing me goodbye."

"Okay," he agreed. He smiled at her and briefly kissed her lips once more. "Want to go inside? I have a very comfortable bed, even if I say so myself."

"At the moment I'd be happy enough sleeping on the floor," she said. "I'm exhausted."

"Let's get you inside then." It was a little awkward to get up the stairs, but Ruth was too tired to care very much. She collapsed into bed, without really taking in her surroundings. Harry stroked her hair, beyond relieved that she was still here with him.

"Get into bed Harry," she said, her exhaustion making her bolder than usual. "Warm me up."

He quickly got in next to her, and stroked her back slowly. She was asleep within moments, her head pillowed against his chest. Harry followed into oblivion quickly.

* * *

Harry woke up first in the morning, to be presented with a delectable view of Ruth's chest. Her blouse, which she hadn't bothered to take off the night before had somehow managed to become completely unbuttoned in her sleep. Her bra was still on, so he couldn't see everything, but he could see plenty. He watched as her chest moved, rising and falling with her breathing. It was clearly God tormenting him, Harry thought bitterly. He was desperate to touch her. Actually, he wanted to taste her. To lick her skin while she shivered under him with pleasure.

"You can touch me," she said, voice hoarse with sleep. He looked at her face, eyes open and he wondered how long she'd been awake. How long she been watching him watch her. "Harry, it's not an imposition. I actually like it when you touch me. I enjoy it."

"I would," he said. "But you're recovering from serious surgery. I can't."

"Why?" she asked. "I'm not made of porcelain, I'm not going to break."

"Because if I touch you, I don't know if I'll be able to stop," he said. "You're just… so beautiful and I've wanted you for so long."

"Then touch me Harry," she said, so simply. He wasn't going to say no, and he reached for her. His fingers gently feathered over her stomach, and higher, reaching for her breasts. Ruth fidgeted a little and he raised his gaze to look in her eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't reach," she said quietly. "One handed, I can't reach the back of my bra." He smiled at her, kissed her softly, and then moved to whisper in her ear.

"Can I get rid of it for you?" he asked, his voice a low growl, making her melt. She nodded, and his hands snaked over her body, loosening it. There were a few moments of frustration, where Ruth removed her blouse (which had been covering almost nothing) and her bra. Soon, she was completely bare from the waist up, with the exception of her plaster cast. She sat up and stayed silent as Harry's eyes moved over her body. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, his eyes were inscrutable as they glittered over her body.

"Say something," she said, moving to cover her injury with her hand again, beginning to feel embarrassed.

"Don't," he said, grabbing her wrist and pulling it back from her. "Don't cover yourself up," he said. "You're so beautiful. Lie down." She did and then closed her eyes as Harry's mouth started kissing her breasts. His lips were so soft and then he flicked his tongue against her skin and she moaned. His hands were stroking her too, and everything was melting together into one sensation of bliss. Then he sucked her nipple and she gasped, her body arching up towards him.

"Oh Harry," she moaned.

"Oh, you like that," he murmured, before doing it again. Then he moved to her other breast and repeated the motion, his tongue flicking against her hard nipple. She shivered, her eyes closed and she wanted him to never stop. She was in heaven. He kissed her skin, and then drew back. After a moment, she opened her eyes in silent question. That was when she felt his hand on her stomach, inching lower. His index finger was following the seam of her knickers, almost as if asking permission and she nodded very slightly.

"I don't ever want you to stop," she said. He kissed her deeply, keeping his lips on hers as his hand inched lower. He felt the curls between her legs and kept moving until he reached her slickness, and she gasped into his mouth.

"God, you're so wet Ruth," he whispered, making her shiver as his fingers touched her so intimately and exquisitely.

"Harry…" she breathed. He'd found a slow rhythm, wanting this to last. She turned her face away from him, but he slowed down.

"Don't do that," he said, his free hand on her chin, turning her back towards him. "I want to see your face when you come. I've imagined what you'll look like for years. Let me see." His hazel eyes were intent and she knew that he meant it, so she did not turn away again.

He pushed one finger inside her and she let out a small cry of pleasure. He stroked her hair, the other hand pushing her closer and closer to orgasm. "Oh Harry…" she moaned in a sigh. Her breathing was getting ragged and he smiled at her, delighted that he'd got her so worked up. "Oh God…" She came quietly, almost silently with a shudder running through her entire body as she gasped for air. Harry watched her with delight, smiling at her. Eventually she opened her eyes to find Harry licking his fingers, a devilish glint in his eyes. "That was… amazing," she said. "Just… mmm." He chuckled at her, then kissed her deeply.

"It's your turn," she said, her words slightly slurred with pleasure.

"My turn for what?" he asked, not following.

"Take your shirt off," she elaborated, her left hand trying to find its way under the hem, and managing it. Her wrist brushed against his boxer shorts, and she raised her eyebrows at the bulge there. "So you enjoyed that."

"Watching you climax from just my fingers?" he asked. "Yes, of course I did. Why would I not?"

"I would reciprocate, but I'd only make a mess of it, only using my left hand," she said simply. "I hate being immobilised like this."

"I know," he said quietly.

"I'll do something else," she said, a cheeky, mischievous look in her eyes. Harry was suddenly uncertain and wondered what she was up to, as she slowly tried to reposition herself. With her casts, it took longer than it should, and was damn uncomfortable to move, but she didn't give up. Harry simply lay there, wondering what on earth she was going to do. Then, as she started to pull his boxers down, it hit him.

"Ruth, you don't have to…"

"I know," she said, a smile blooming on her face. "Of course I don't have to," she added. "I want to." She took him in her hand and then looked at him. "So big," she said, her voice low and seductive.

"Who are you and what have you done with Ruth?" he asked. The Ruth he knew wasn't this confident in herself, not that he was complaining. He absolutely wasn't. Maybe she simply became a vixen after an orgasm. He'd have to give her more then. She suddenly took him into her warm wet mouth and he stopped thinking at all. Her tongue swirled around the head, sending jolts of pure pleasure through his body. Even with her mouth occupied, she looked up, catching his eye, and he felt a massive surge of lust go up his spine. She was clearly enjoying this and she "mmed" as her lips and tongue moved slowly on his so sensitive skin. Her eyes kept darting to his every now and then, as if checking he was enjoying it. God, he'd never enjoyed anything more. He entwined his fingers in her hair, desperate for her not to stop. She had no intention of stopping though. None at all.

She sped up, just a little and he couldn't hold back. It had been a long time since he'd had sex with anyone, and he came with a low grunt, her mouth still around him. She swallowed, and licked him a couple more times, before looking at him with a smile. It took a couple of minutes for her to move back up the bed and lie next to him. When she had, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her soundly.

"Thank you," he whispered, voice hoarse.

"For what?" she asked, slightly breathless herself.

"Well… women don't like doing that, do they?"

"Well I did," she said simply. "I enjoyed that immensely."

"Don't lie," he said.

"Harry, I have wanted to know how you'd feel in my mouth for… years," she said. "To know exactly how you'd taste. How your skin would feel as I licked you. And now I know," she said. "Why can't you believe that?"

He sighed heavily, but kept an arm around her. "Because I've never, ever had a satisfactory blow job," he said simply and bluntly.

"Never?" she asked. She knew from his file which she had snooped into that he had a long and rather prolific history with women, so this really shocked her.

"Well, I guess I can't say that anymore," he said, kissing her again. "My relationships with women have usually been short and explosive and over very quickly. It doesn't last. Other women I've been with… It's just… when a woman does it, and she doesn't really want to, I can tell. It just feels boring, formulaic or uncomfortable." He sighed. "The women I've been with only ever did it if I asked them to, or they were doing me a favour. And it never felt like that," he added.

She smiled, rather pleased with herself. "Well, I thoroughly enjoyed myself," she said. She rested her head against his shoulder as he stroked her hair. His shirt had never actually come off, and she could feel the thin cotton against her cheek. "I still want to look at you," she said quietly. "I've been denied that pleasure."

"Not much to look at," he said.

"You've seen me," she said quietly.

He kissed her lips lightly. "The difference there is that you're beautiful and I'm old and rather past it."

"I'll be the judge of that," she said. "Please, take it off." He looked into her blue eyes, waiting, wanting him and he nodded. She lay back on the bed as he stood up, and stripped off, completely naked. She felt her breathing stop and her heart race as she looked at him. This man who was entirely hers. She felt a thread of desire, hot and sweet in her stomach as she looked at him. He really was attractive, but he couldn't see it. He had a broad strong chest, covered with many scars, some small, some large, and she followed the lines of his body downwards. Across his stomach, to his hips and then between. Even flaccid he was rather large. At some point soon, she needed to feel him inside her, and she blushed, sure that the thought was clear on her face.

"What?" he asked. "Am I not… what you hoped?"

"I would walk over to you, but I can't, so get back into bed," she said quietly. He did, waiting for the worst. "How can you have so little confidence in yourself," she asked. "You are one of the most attractive men I've ever met, but you don't see it."

"Mm," he grumbled. "That is open to question."

"No, it's not," she said. "Just the way you say my name," she added. "When you want to, you can make my name seem so seductive, and just that can have me wet for you." He smiled at her.

"Oh really?"

"Yes," she said.

"Well, I'll remember that. Ruth," he said, voice low. Almost a growl. She shivered with delight.

"And that voice," she added. "That voice is… like honey." She sighed and then giggled as Harry kissed her shoulder. They lapsed into a silence, and Ruth shifted, becoming uncomfortable. As if he could sense this he asked "What's wrong?"

"I hate to break the mood," she said. "But I need some painkillers. Could you…"

"Oh, of course," he said. He kissed her, then got up, treating Ruth to a rather good view of his backside before he threw his dressing gown on. He turned and saw Ruth's eyes around waist level and he grinned. If this continued as he hoped it would, she'd do wonders for his ego. He left the room and she sighed with her sudden solitude. She felt warm, happy and loved, with just a little undercurrent of pain. It was only in the distant part of her mind that she realised that she and Harry hadn't actually had sex yet. But she felt so happy that it scarcely mattered.

* * *

**More soon. Thank you very much for the reviews. :)**


	19. Chapter 19

Harry emerged back into the bedroom with a tray of coffee, toast and painkillers. Ruth smiled at him as he got back into bed and kissed her neck gently.

"I love you," he said quietly.

"I know," she said. "I heard you the other night. You thought I was sleeping."

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked.

"Because I wasn't entirely sure I was conscious," she said. "I thought I might have been dreaming it. It wasn't until I heard you say it again that I realised I hadn't."

"Oh," he said. He looked at her, waiting.

"Oh," she said, realising she hadn't reciprocated. "I love you too," she added in a very matter of fact sort of way.

"So heartfelt," he said sarcastically.

"Harry, do you need me to tell you how I feel?" she asked. "Isn't it obvious? Would we really have gone through… everything that we've been through together if I felt any less?"

"No," he said. "But it's nice to hear all the same."

"I love you," she said. "I love you with all my heart Harry." She tried to spread butter on her toast, but was limited with her movement, so Harry did it for her, a slight grin on his face.

"I can't wait until I have my hand back," she said. "I'm already sick of being immobile."

"It won't be long," Harry said placatingly. She rolled her eyes.

"Are you getting up today?" she asked.

"Why?"

"Because I rather like the idea of spending all day in bed with you," she said. "It seems… attractive."

"Well, I'm sure I can arrange that," he said with a grin. She chuckled back.

* * *

"We were foolish." Harry said.

"That's a wonderful opener after sex," Ruth said, shifting slightly. She knew he'd get to his point in time, and she also knew it had nothing to do with the sex either. Because that had been fantastic. Even if she'd simply lain there while Harry had done most of the work.

"Charles Thomas," he said. "We were so foolish. What if he'd shot you on sight? So much could have gone wrong, but because I thought I knew him, and I guessed what he'd do. I was standing right behind him, and I could have shot him before announcing my presence. But I was stubborn, and I was convinced he wouldn't shoot you. That I'd be able to talk to him. I should have just shot him, why was I so selfish?"

"It's fine," Ruth said. She didn't want to think about it, because he was absolutely right. They had both been incredibly stupid.

"You could have died," he said.

"Yes," she agreed. "But I didn't."

"Ruth…"

"Harry, I can't think about that," she said. She sighed heavily. "If I think about how mind numbingly idiotic we were, I'll panic. It's over, and I want to forget it."

"Okay," he said, sensing to drop it. "I just want to say one thing. I will take care of you, and I will never be so bloody foolish again. You're the most precious thing in the world to me, and if that had gone wrong…"

She kissed him, to shut him up. It worked, and they both knew how lucky they were to still be here, and to be together.

* * *

**Thank you for the reviews. Just the epilogue to go.**


	20. 4 Months later

**So, fluff central ahead. Enjoy**

**4 Months later.**

Harry brought up a breakfast tray, as he'd taken to doing every morning that they spent together. Which was most mornings. It was very rare for them to spend a night apart. It had become a habit when Ruth was in plaster, and now her arm was free, and her leg was nearly healed. She could walk, but had to do so with a walking stick until the bone knit together properly. But he still brought a breakfast tray up for them both every morning.

Harry's suspension had been quietly revoked, with nothing more than a slapped wrist for leaving the grid when such a disaster had happened. After all, who could have predicted the actions of a mad man? Marie Elise Daquise had been caught and sent to Paris very quickly and quietly. Ruth had quietly moved out of her flat, and moved into Harry's house, well hers and Harry's house now. It was wonderful to wake up with him every morning.

He arranged the breakfast tray perfectly, toast, coffee, and velvet covered blue box. Feeling a faint flutter of nervousness, he took the tray upstairs, hoping that this time she'd say yes. _Please say yes._ He found Ruth laying in bed, still sleeping, the bed sheets gathered around her thighs. It gave him a perfect few of her buttocks and back, and he bit his lip, trying to rein his thoughts in. _God she looks good._ He put the tray on the bed, and carefully got in next to her.

"I smell coffee," she said into the pillow.

"Sit up then," he said easily. She did, clutching a sheet to her breasts and took her coffee. Then she saw the velvet box, and the mug froze, halfway to her lips. Very slowly, she put the mug back down on the tray, her eyes staring at the box. Harry was more nervous than he should be.

"Harry…" she said softly.

"I love you Ruth," he said, and her eyes snapped to his face. "And I want you for life. I love everything about you, and I can't even picture my life without you. I don't want to try. At work, you're always by my side. And here, with me, we're us. And us is very good. I can't function without you by my side any longer. When you left for a few years, I realised that, and I was only ever half there. Ruth, will you marry me?"

She didn't say anything, instead she tore her eyes away from him and picked up the box. She flicked the lid open, and looked at the very simple diamond on a gold band. It was beautiful. It was perfect, and it was exactly the ring she would have chosen for herself. She took it out of the box and a smile appeared on her face. A genuinely happy smile and he felt the knot of anxiety lessen somewhat.

"Yes," she said. "Yes. I will marry you." Her eyes were shining at him and she went to slip it on her finger, but he shook his head.

"Please, let me," he said. "I want to put it on you." She gave him the ring and he slipped it on, very slowly. It fit her perfectly, of course. Not due to the fact he'd measured her finger while she was sleeping and had the ring resized. No, not at all. He kissed the back of her hand, and then she held up the ring to the light.

"It's beautiful," she said.

"You're beautiful," he replied. She smiled at him, and he took her hand again. "You'll really marry me?" he asked. He just had to check.

She didn't blame him. She nodded eagerly. "Of course I will. You know it wasn't right then Harry. You might not like it, but it wasn't."

"No, you're right," he said. "Like you always are." She leaned across and kissed him deeply.

"I love you," she said, her eyes brimming with tears. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For loving me," she said. "For waiting for me. For not asking me to marry you at another funeral." The last had him laughing, and he marvelled that he was now at a point where he could laugh about it. Maybe because she'd now said yes, he was sure that had helped.

"Can we… get married soon?" she asked.

"Of course we can," he said. "Hell, I'm sure I can organise it so we get married today if you wanted to. I'm sure I have something on a registrar, to get us in at short notice."

She laughed into his chest. "No," she said. "I'd like to be walking stick free. And I'd like a proper dress."

"Anything you want," he said, and she was so sure he meant it that it touched her.

"Actually, I need to… This seems as good a time as any, but I'm a little worried." The smile was fading from her face, and he held her close. That should not be a look on her face just after they'd got engaged.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure we can get through it together," he said, kissing the top of her head. "You look worried."

"No, not worried as such," she said. She shook her head, sighed and leaned out of bed. Harry was distracted by her naked breasts for a moment, and then she opened her bedside drawer. She took out a present, wrapped and otherwise completely silent about its contents. She threw it towards him. "Here," she said, a slight smile on her face. "Open it."

He frowned at her in confusion, but then did. The wrapping paper revealed a tiny bib that said Daddy's Little Star. Harry held it, his face gone completely blank with shock. Ruth looked at him, but there was simply no expression. He'd frozen. About a minute later he turned to her. "You're… I mean, we're…"

"Yes," she said. "Is this a good quiet or a bad quiet?"

"It's… we're expecting a baby?" he asked. His voice had gone very quiet and she suddenly felt filled with doubt that he wouldn't want this. That he'd want her to get rid of it.

"Yes," she said, worry all over her face. His face split into the biggest grin she'd ever seen and she sighed with relief. "God, you had me worried there!"

He kissed her intensely and she was astounded by the sudden ferocity of the kiss. "That's the best news I've heard since…. Since I asked you to marry me, and you said yes," he said, still beaming from ear to ear.

"Oh, a whole five minutes," she said with a teasing note in her voice.

"Ruth, this is one of the best days of my life," he said. "How far along are you?"

"Not far," she said. "Six weeks or so."

"Is it okay?" he asked. "Injury wise, are you… will the baby be healthy?"

"Yes," she said. "I did check with my prenatal doctor, after everything. I'm taking some supplements which she advised given my recent medical history. There's no reason everything shouldn't be perfectly fine."

"That's great," he said sincerely, and she sighed with relief.

"I thought for a moment there that you might be unhappy."

"I'm through the roof," he said honestly. "I'm… oh my god." He put the breakfast tray on the floor, shimmied down the bed and kissed her stomach several times before laying next to her again.

"I would like to get married before I'm too fat to waddle down the aisle," she said. "If that's okay."

"That is perfect," he said. "I'm so happy." She kissed him gently.

"I didn't know how you'd take it," she said, letting a small smile onto her face. "I thought you might be… disappointed. That you saw our lives together as just us two."

"I did," he said. "But I have no problem at all in including a third person."

"It's twins," she said. Harry's eyes popped open and she laughed. "I'm joking, I'm joking," she added quickly. He joined in the laughter and for once, Ruth couldn't remember ever being happier in her life.


End file.
